


Out Alive

by CatSaucEe



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Torture, M/M, Marvel Universe, Minor Violence, Other, Other characters mentioned later - Freeform, Spideypool - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 07:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17382677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatSaucEe/pseuds/CatSaucEe
Summary: The world is turned into chaos when a virus spreads among the people, causing a worldwide disaster that will shake all of human kind; The Zombie Apocalypse.Peter Parker has a mission; to find Aunt May and get them both out of the hellhole. But when he encounters a rather interesting (and annoying) survivor by the name of Wade Wilson, things become interesting for the both of them on their journey, and certainly more tedious when an extra mission comes along with a new partner; Finding his daughter in this zombie filled land.-In which this in another zombie apocalypse au, but I promise you it's good.





	1. The Beginning of The End

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfiction in a while, I got really excited doing it. 
> 
> For context, in this universe, Peter Parker has no Spider abilities, none whatsoever, he's just your average typical nerd. And the Wade Wilson of this universe does not go through with the programn that would cause him to have healing abilities, but does not die of cancer either, having done mercenary work either way. However, Captain America, Iron man and the other Avengers still keep their powers and abilities.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20 February 20X0, 5:37 pm

_Spring_

 

The sirens blaring in warning through Peter’s ears were horribly loud and annoying, along with the screaming and crying of people running past him, booking it to the border and to their cars, or any abandoned vehicle they could get their hands on and start their engines. Yet in the middle of the confusion, internal frustration and the loud cries of a child in the distance, he could somehow hear Aunt May calling out to him. Peter races to catch up with his Aunt May, who’s being helped by their ever so kind neighbour.

“Oh my god Peter, you’re alright,” Aunt May cries in relief as she places her hands over Peter’s cheeks, checking to see if he is fine. She looked absolutely exhausted, running for so long and so fast. “Where’s Uncle Ben?” Peter asks with urgency, getting much more alarmed when he realises his Uncle is neither with Aunt May nor anywhere in sight. “I don’t know. He went to look for you near the city square.”

Peter mutters a curse under his breath. “I-I shouldn’t have yelled at the two of you. I shouldn’t have ran away like that- God, this is all my fault-” Aunt May reaches for his hands and grips it lightly to bring him back, looking at him with those soft, nurturing eyes, “It’s not your fault Peter.”

 

“I have to find Uncle Ben.”

 

“Peter, It’s not safe-"

 

“I have to Aunt May.”

 

Peter does not want Aunt May to worry, so with a firm grip and a determined look, Peter insists, “Go and take the car and drive to the border. I’ll find Uncle Ben and we’ll meet you there. I promise I’ll find him and we’ll escape together.” He doesn’t waste a second to hear his Aunt’s protests before turning to run into the virus infected city.

 

The city had already been heavily damaged from the explosions the army graciously launched. Buildings were crumbling and abandoned vehicles were on fire, with the possibility of exploding. Peter could never imagine the theories and the idea of a “Zombie Apocalypse” coming to life, but there he was, trying as quietly as he can to manoeuvre his way around the group of infected dead-looking people behind cars and walls.

“Help! Please!! Somebody!”

Peter turns to see a man, leg trapped under a fallen rubble, helpless and open to the mindless undead like a fresh snack waiting to be eaten. Part of him wants to help the man, but on the other hand, what can he do? That rubble looks too heavy to even move. Sure, a good crowbar jammed under it could aid in the lifting, but he was not strong enough for that.

Peter also has other better things to do, as cruel as it sounded.

He prays a good luck in his head for the poor man before turning to continue his search.

 

An hour into his search, he sees a familiar figure in the distance, stumbling a bit from exhaustion, but fine. Peter runs up to Uncle Ben and gives him a tight hug. “Peter, please loosen up, you’re going to squeeze the daylights out of me!” Uncle Ben chuckles as he jokes, but he hugs Peter back, “Where’s your Aunt?” Peter lets his Uncle go, rubbing his face from the bits of tears in his eyes, “I told her to take the car and go to the border. Mr. Williams is with her. We’ll meet her at the border. Uncle Ben, I-” Peter only realizes the shotgun in his Uncle’s hand at that point, surprised he even has it given the many previous preaches about no guns by Aunt May. “Where did you get that?” Uncle Ben only smiles sheepishly in admittance, “Don’t tell your Aunt May. I kept it somewhere secret in case anything happened.” Uncle Ben pats Peter’s back and smiles warmly, despite a bit of blood on his clothing, “Let’s go to the border.”

 

A shrill cry catches the attention of both Peter and Uncle Ben. A group of the infected have found them, riled up and hungry, very hungry. “Shit,” Uncle Ben mutters as he aims his gun, “Find something to defend yourself, Peter. Hurry!”

Undead are already desperately chasing at them, crying an unholy noise. Peter grabs a busted pipeline pole from the ground, raising it close to his chest in defence. God he was an 18 year old science nerd, and not prepared to fight, let alone against zombies starving for his flesh. God forbid, they were fast for dead people miraculously risen from their “graves”. Peter swings at one of them, bashing his, or its, head with fear, adrenaline rushing from the experience of fighting a person, although not totally human. Between looking to see if his Uncle could manage and watching his back from unsuspecting zombies, he could just see blurs of everything, and blood. A lot of it. On his pole, and on his clothes.

Peter slams his pole into the last zombie running towards him, and turns to see Uncle Ben shooting the last few zombies on his part. Peter stares at the dead-dead bodies scattered on the ground around them covered in blood and broken bodies, slightly uncomfortable. Uncle Ben turns to approach Peter, both thinking that the worst is finally over.

 

In a sudden blur, something grabs Uncle Ben, and a scream rings in Peter’s ears.

 

Peter doesn’t register what happens next, only he remembers moving his legs and swinging that pole with a blood wrenching thwack, the pole bent in his hand and blood dripping. The mindless corpse drops dead next to his Uncle, who is on ground in pain. Peter drops to his knees and props his Uncle’s head in his hands, onto his lap, “Uncle Ben! Are you okay?” His attention quickly diverts to the now dead zombie, conflicted when he realises it’s the same man from before, trapped under that rubble, but his one leg gone and brain spilling out of his open head in a gruesome way. It’s making Peter very, very nauseous.

“Peter…”

Peter turns to look at his Uncle, but the look he gives Peter is not at all something positive. Peter scans his body for any injury, only to focus on a distinct human bit mark on his Uncle’s arm, fresh and bleeding.

 

Oh God…..

 

No.

 

No no no no no-

 

Peter scrambles to find a logical solution or explanation. God, this is not happening. This cannot be happening. He can’t- He promised his Aunt May-

The grip on his arm brings him back, but he’s still disoriented, babbling words of denial to his Uncle and his throat, dry. “No, no you can’t- This isn’t happening, please Uncle Ben, m—maybe we can find a cure at the border, we just have to-”

 

“Peter.”

Uncle Ben reaches for the shotgun at the side, groaning albeit from the pain.

 

“W-what are you doing Uncle Ben.” It wasn’t a question.

 

 “I’m sorry Peter-” A strangulated cough comes from Uncle Ben, and blood trickles down his chin; the first sign of turning. “-I don’t want to know what happens when I turn into one of those things.” Peter knows what he’s suggesting.

 

“Uncle Ben please- no, there has to be another way! If I just-If I had helped that guy or did something, none of this would’ve happened, I-"

 

Another strong grip presses on Peter’s arm.

“I-I’m so sorry Uncle Ben.” Peter is choking, sobbing, tears falling endlessly. “I know you are…and I forgive you” Uncle Ben places the shotgun in Peter’s hand, “Please. Do it Peter. I fear what would happen to me more than death.”

 

Peter takes the shotgun with shaking hands and stands, trying to see Uncle Ben’s face through the clouded vision from his tears.

If he had just helped that man, he could’ve prevented him from getting infected.

If he had found Uncle Ben sooner, they could’ve avoided this.

If he hadn’t yelled at his Uncle

If he hadn’t ran away like that

all this could’ve been avoided.

 

This is all Peter’s fault.

 

He takes aim at his Uncle’s chest, and he is scared.

 

“I’m so-so sorry.”

 

“I know.”

 

Peter closes his eyes, tight.

 

“I love you, son.”

 

The sharp sound of a gun firing ringing in Peter’s head, will forever be ingrained into his memory, for as long as he lives.

 

\--

11 June, 20X7, 9:34am (7 years, 3 months and 22 days passed)

_Summer_

 

A sharp arrow zips through the air and pierces a poor, unsuspecting rabbit, killing it in an instant. Peter jogs over to rabbit corpse and picks it up, questioning how on earth rabbits managed to live through 7 years of the apocalypse. At least he had his meal set for dinner, and need not worry about the answer to that, and eating bland baked beans for the sixth day in a row.

Seven years since the unsuspecting virus crept up onto the city and into the world, causing a worldwide disaster that was only ever thought of in theory and in comic books. Much time spent on studying this phenomenon by Peter and his tacky research equipment he could only scramble to find in abandoned research labs in the cities concluded that it was a parasitic virus, one that would control and infest the mind of its victims to eat of other living beings to allow the parasites to spread and grow. Whether it killed its victims before it infests itself or not, Peter never knew.

No one knew how it started. Most people, more of the passing survivors he had come across and helped, suspected that the Osborns’ revolutionary cure for any and all sort of ailments being distributed worldwide could be its cause. Not that it could be proven, even if the Osborns were still alive or not.

It led Peter to wonder about Harry, where and how he is doing. His mind then wondered about Gwen, whom he had failed to hear from through his messages and calls until service was suddenly disrupted. Then MJ, whom he had last seen at a Taco Bell stall 16 hours before the apocalypse started and failed to reach her as well. And then, Aunt May.

 

Peter tried to find Aunt May at the border, but when he got there, there was no one, only stray guards that were on the frontlines to guide remaining survivors. Peter could only pray that his Aunt was alright, and they would find each other, and with a bit of luck, go to the border and escape if they were still open after 7 years.

Peter suddenly snapped out of his thoughts, hearing the faint rustle of leaves being disturbed. Quickly, he positioned himself in focus, unsure of where the noise came from in an awfully secluded part of an abandoned nature reserve. He was startled when a large man stumbled from behind a tree, bleeding, but Peter was quickly drawn to one detail he should really be concerned about.

An obvious bite mark on the arm of the man.


	2. Strange Man

11 June, 20X7, 9:30am

 

Wade manages to yank out the stupid arrow that had made its way into his waist. If he had moved any farther to the left, the arrow would’ve landed on his perfectly good butt, he thinks to his bemusement. At least he did not end up as bad as what he did to the other guys.

“Its what-chu’ get for trying to loot an ex-mercenary such as moi, and trying to murder me in my sleep,” Wade mutters to himself. Wade wonders how stupid people can get, thinking they could suddenly start forming gangs and territories and fight each other out for food and weapons just because it’s a fucking apocalypse. It would seem like a “logical idea” for a comic book plot or a fictional story, but this is not a comic book or a fictional story. This is real life.

 Although not dead, Wade’s not entirely okay either. His leg had managed to survive two bullets and he’s limping his way around, trying to find whatever help he can find in this abandoned, unattended nature reserve. Seeing as this is a marked territory (judging by the crude spray paintings of signs scattered around the area), Wade does not think anyone would dare venture around here.

However, he is proven wrong when he squints to see a lone figure in a distance.

Wade limps closer, only to realise that it's-

“Holy grail, is that….It’s Spiderman!!”

What are the odds a saviour shows up when he needs help?

 

Wade drags his limp leg with him and creeps behind a tree, checking to see if it was really Spiderman himself.

The man has a dead rabbit by his feet, possibly his next meal, and is quietly observing his surroundings, aware of the sound Wade’s feet made rustling the leaves on the ground. His brunette hair is oddly silky and shiny under the bright sun, albeit messy. His face, however, could not be discerned, covered by a piece of red cloth with spider web designs over his mouth and a pair of goggles over his eyes. The sleeveless hoodie and baggy pants, along with what could be, a thin long-sleeved shirt under the get-up protected the man from the sun and the dust blowing up from the dirt and bits of sand in the wind.

Wade decides that this man is, indeed, Spiderman, the man many people Wade had come across told him about; helping those who were injured and guiding them to the border. The web markings on his mask and gloves probably earned him the name ‘Spiderman’.

Wade steps out of his hiding spot, hoping that he looks non-threatening enough to give off a good first impression. The man stares at him, in alarm and in caution, as expected.

What Wade does not expect, is a sticky substance shooting out of the man’s wrist, trapping him in a gooey-like trap and causing him to fall to the ground.

 

Peter is on a high alert now. The man before him is now webbed up and utterly confused and is trying to wriggle his way out of the situation he is in, which Peter knows, is going to be impossible. “Ew. Ew- Oh my god- What is this?!” The man screams in a panic, confused and probably disgusted at the weird substance he’s trapped in. “Spider webs. Made of mostly carbon nanotubes and other things...Strong enough to hold a person down…including zombies.” Peter explains, the last part coming out with a bit of intentional force.

“….Oh.” The man finally speaks after a few seconds of silence, and quips, “We have a nerd here.” He tries sitting up with a rather painful leg injury and props himself against the tree. “Okay, my name’s Wade Wilson, first of all. And this, really, is the most horrible of introductions I’ve ever introduced, especially to Spiderman of all people!” the man muses, causing Peter to cock a brow. “Secondly, I know this looks…bad. But you have to believe me when I say that I won’t turn into the undead,” Wade explains as he moves his arm slightly, gesturing to the bite mark on his arm with his eyes.

“And you think I’ll believe you? Or are you just saying that because you don’t want me to shoot you? Because if that’s what you’re thinking, I’m not going to shoot.” Peter explains, still cautious, even if the other was seemingly more relaxed than him. “Oh no, I’m not afraid of getting shot or dying really. I’m used to those kind of risks,” Wade shrugs at the last statement, “I’m serious. I’m immune to the bites, believe it or not. This bite was from a year ago. Not a thing about me has changed at all, physically and mentally…. Although I’m not so sure about ‘Mentally’.”

Peter tries to process the information he’s being told. The idea of being immune to a virus that has wiped out so many people of their minds and body? Peter did not think it would be possible, or existent. “That’s impossible,” Peter reiterates his thoughts. Wade sighs, “But here we are….look, how about this. I can prove it to you. I just need first aid, and a shit ton of bandages. These wounds are killing me.” Peter looks down at the bleeding leg and body, even more confused as to how a man can survive in such a state. Even the people he had helped before have never gotten injuries as bad as his.

Peter ponders for a while, and decides it would be worth the risk to help a man if he were to be ‘immune’.

 

 

“Couldn’t you at least get rid of the webs, Spidey?” Wade grumbles as he moves his leg a bit to allow Spiderman to properly bandage his leg. “No, even if you are going to be affected or not, I can’t risk the idea of you knocking me out and looting me or attempting to kill me for whatever insane reason.” Peter grabs his bag and starts packing his first aid kit, “And it’s Peter, by the way. Peter Parker. Being called ‘Spiderman’ is weird.”

Wade chuckles, a bit amused, “It’s what call you! And I’m just saying, I could triangle choke you- Which I won’t!” Wade quickly tries to raise his arms in defence when Peter cocks his head at him in suspicion at the last statement.

Peter helps Wade stand up anyway, slinging the bag over his shoulders and adjusting his goggles. “So how are you going to prove it?” Peter asks. Even if Peter's initial intention was to leave the guy be (before he could turn), the nerd in him was still curious at the idea of someone being immune to such a virus. “Easy, I follow you until….whatever time you think would be long enough to prove my innocence,” Wade suggests, “And besides, I make a great travel buddy.”

Peter thinks about it for a while. Sure, Wade would be harmless with the webs restricting his arms. But anything could happen. Peter does not want to risk it.

“And I have enough food for the both of us, fresh meat that’ll last us for a week.” Wade waggles his eyebrows at Peter as if trying to tempt Peter.

And tempted Peter was.

 

\--

11 June, 20X7, 12:34am

 

Turns out, leaving Wade behind would prove to be a much more tempting choice to Peter than finding out more about his presumed immunity. Of all the men or women in the world whom he could have bumped into or had an immunity to the virus, it had to be an obnoxiously annoying man who could never, for the love of God, shut his mouth. Peter wondered how this man could talk about his bizarre life as an ex-mercenary and then suddenly describe in detail, the one shawarma he had loved oh-so much before the apocalypse happened.

In addition to the life stories Wade could recall and tell, he kept prodding Peter about multiple questions, some with very little relevance to their current situation. “So where’d you live? Before all of this happened?” Wade asked, strolling beside Peter with a skip in his step. “Queens,” Peter replied, not really interested in keeping up with the conversation.

“How old are you? You look like you’re young, but not that young? God I hope you’re old enough, because it’d be weird if I said your ass is cute.”

“25.”

“How’d you get your hair to look like that? My hair is an utter mess. You have no idea how much blood and dirt there is in this hair that I can’t get off, it’s ruining the beauty of it.”

“It’s a secret.”

“Unfair of you not to spill it.”

Peter looks at Wade, taking a glimpse at his hair, blonde but dull and dirty from the dried blood and dust that settled in his hair. Dirt and dried blood also stains his face, and he looks quite tired, yet he somehow has the energy to keep talking. Peter considers webbing his mouth shut, but it would be a waste of web fluid….Or not.

Peter suddenly stops in his tracks, raising an arm at Wade to stop him, making a shushed sound to stop Wade from talking. “Quiet,” Peter mutters. Wade stops and stays still, but not before whispering, “Dramatic.” Which makes Peter internally groan in annoyance. Peter and Wade listened to the silence, but all they could hear was the chirping of crickets in the trees. Then Peter picks up the distant sound of an all too familiar clicking.

“Shit shit shit shit shit!” Peter reaches for the pocket knife in his bag and quickly works on cutting away at the webs. “We have to get out of here now!” Wade and Peter work on tearing away at the last of the webs, but Wade reaches for the knife in Peter’s hand instead, asking, “How many are there?” Peter, albeit confused, still replies, “Not that many, but we should run.” Peter turns to escape, but Wade has other plans.

The zombies rush out from behind a thick foliage, screaming and hungry for flesh, but Wade, in a swift motion, starts slashing and stabbing at them with full force as if he had done this many times before. One by one, bodies fall to the floor, dead. In a matter of seconds, Wade stands among the corpses, walking up to Peter. Wade chuckles lightly and teases, “I know, I know, I was super awesome and kissed their dead-asses goodbye in a flash, we didn’t have to run-” But Wade trails off when he sees the look on Peter’s face.

Peter looks at the bodies in front of him, the smell of rot and dead flesh burning his nostrils. His breathing becomes heavy as he tries to peel his eyes from the scene before him, but can’t. Images flash in his mind, the same, yet different pile of bodies before him. The pole in his hand. The blood on his shirt.

And the sound of a gunshot rings in his head.

 

Peter runs off to the nearest tree and purges, his morning breakfast of old baked beans on the ground. He feels awful, in his head and in his stomach. He pushes the memories far back into his mind and forces himself to forget. Wade walks up to him and Peter takes that time to turn to look at him, wiping his mouth. Wade looks very confused, but much more worried for Peter. “Hey Peter, you okay? Is it the blood? I know it’s a lot,” Wade asks in a soft tone. “No, it’s-….it’s not the blood. I’m fine.” Peter insists, and quickly zips up his bag, turning to leave as quickly as possible. “You sure? Or is it the dead zombies? The smell? The way I stabbed-”

“Can we not talk about this, please?” Peter speaks up, stopping Wade from completing his sentence, “Let’s just, move on, and find shelter before the sun sets.” Wade silently considers his answer. “Alright.” Wade catches up with Peter and walks beside him in silence.

 

“So….you’re not gonna, web me up or-”

“Nope,” Peter answers, exaggerating the ‘pe’, “I think you proved that you’re not going to become like one of them.”  
  
“Told you.”

“…….”

“Hey, you want the knife back?”

“Just keep it, I think you use it better than me.”

“….Alright.”


	3. Pals On A Road Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to the people who read, left kudos and bookmarked my fic, love ya'll UwU This chapter is really short but the next ones will probably be longer

11 June, 20X7, 8:39pm

The makeshift campfire crackles before the two, the only noise distracting them from the silence between them. Wade’s eyes turn their attention from the fire to Peter, more specifically, his now unmasked face. The orange from the fire glowers at Peter’s face, making his eyes shine. 7 years of living among and fending off undead and the weather did nothing on his complexion, and assuming that this was a getup Peter had for 7 years, it would not be surprising if Peter wasn’t tan. Aside from the observations Wade mentally makes in his head, he can’t help thinking to himself that he’s freaking adorable. And hot. Or maybe it’s just the fire.

“So,” Peter suddenly speaks, cutting through the silence, “What brings you here? I would’ve thought that you’d be on your way to the border. But you’re headed opposite.” Peter stuffs a thick branch into the campfire, resting his elbows on his knees and turns to look at Wade. Wade ponders for a moment. “I could say the same to you. I don’t believe someone would have the guts to stay in here and help people. Unless you’re the Avengers or something. Even then, they’ve never really set foot round here.”

 

Silence again.

 

“Okay, how about this. If I tell you mine, would you care to tell me yours?” Wade looks at Peter expectantly, hoping the man would share his story. After a long silence, yet again, Peter quietly nods, “Sure. But you go first.”

Wade smiles and turns to his backpack, ruffling through the clothes he has stuffed in it until he feels paper, gently pulling it out from his bag and taking a glimpse at it before giving it to Peter. “I haven’t been to the border yet ‘cause I’m looking for my daughter. I haven’t seen for seven years, ever since this damn ‘pocalypse happened.”

Peter takes the paper from Wade’s hand and looks at it. Although yellowed and stained, Peter could still clearly see the little girl in the photograph. She wore a short ponytail with wisps of her hair free, along with a toothy grin that came with dimples and a basketball in her hand. Peter smiled lightly at the way the photo lacked any tears and crumples, knowing that it was being kept with extra care.

“Her name’s Ellie. Only found out I was a Dad a year before all of this happened, but she’s the light of my life. Would hate for anything to happen to her.” Wade takes the photo from Peter and stares at it, a soft smile gracing his face. “I tried to find her. That day when it all happened. But when I came home, I found the babysitter, turned and dead on the floor and Ellie, gone.” The tender look on Wade’s face changes to sadness, making Peter frown a bit. “God, she was only 9, and suddenly the world decides to fall into utter chaos and throw her along for the ride.” Wade looks up at the sky, swallowing a lump in his throat. “7 years I’ve been looking. Even if she… turned… or could be dead…. I just want to find her. And if by some fucking miracle, if she’s alive, we’re getting out of here.”

The silence comes again and the crackling of fire is even louder. “I’m sorry…” Peter says, softly. Wade gently returns the photograph to its spot in the bag and runs his hand through his hair, sighing, “It’s fine Petey, no need to say that. Sides, she’s a feisty fighter like me. I believe-…no, I know she’ll get through.” Peter folds his arms and squints at Wade, “Petey? Really?”. “Awwww, come on! We’re already buddies! Pals on a road trip! We should at least get comfy with each other!” Wade laughs and crosses a leg the other, resting his elbow on his leg and gingerly rests his chin on his hand, looking at Peter as if they were gossiping. “So, what’s yours?” Peter looks at Wade with a ‘are-you-serious?’ face before clearing his throat, “I’m looking for my Aunt. And I don’t even know if she’s… dead… or not-”

 

\--

20 February 20X0, 7:59 pm

(7 years ago)

 

Peter’s legs feel numb, tired from walking and running altogether and his hand is tired from gripping at the torchlight too tightly for too long. But his mind is blank and in a daze, yet the same thought is ringing in his head; Go to the border.

Peter follows the main road to the border, ignoring the growl his stomach makes. He looks up at the sign on the road above him, noting that he’s in the right track and that he was just 10 minutes away, if he was in a vehicle. Peter tried starting up vehicles he came across, but after trying his luck on the fourth car, he gave up. The sound would just attract more zombies anyway.

Hoping over the barricade of cars, he clumsily lands on the ground, stumbling a bit. It was then that Peter notices a car in a distance, a car all too familiar. “Shit, crap- no, please no no no-,” Peter quickly picks himself up and runs to the abandoned car, door wide open. Peter looks inside. No one. The engine is dead and the compartment in the front is open. Peter starts to panic and look up, trying to find any clue, any hint, any sign as to where they could’ve run off to. Peter cared very little about the idea of zombies listening to him when he yells, “AUNT MAY! WHERE ARE YOU?” He clambers over the metal rail separating the road from the grove of trees and disappears into the woods.

“AUNT MAY, PLEASE-“

Peter desperately gasps for breath and tries to force his legs to keep going. He chokes back a sob and picks up his pace. He can’t afford to cry, not now, or he’ll tire. Peter slows when he notices something shining in the corner of his eye. He turns to run towards it, only to stop when he sees a body on the ground. “Oh my god…” Peter mutters and approaches the body, shocked to find Mr. Williams, dead, and a nasty chunk of meat missing from his neck. Peter quickly peels his eyes away, turning his attention towards the shining object and trying his best not to vomit (again). Peter kneels down and picks up the object.

A locket. Not just any locket. It was the one Aunt May always wears around her neck, and now it’s in his hands, stained with blood. Peter wipes off the blood on the locket and opens it, revealing monochromatic photos of Uncle Ben and Aunt May framed neatly, smiling at Peter with so much joy.

Peter struggles to hold his tears back, but he can’t. Peter bends over and clutches the locket in his hand tightly, holding onto it and close to his chest as if his life depended on him. He starts to cry, ugly noises coming out of his lips. “God, please-…..not you too… Please, not Aunt May.” He shouldn’t be crying now, not when he’s vulnerable to an attack, but he can’t. He really can’t.

 

\--

 

“-I thought I’d see my Aunt at the border. But while I was on my way, I found her car, abandoned,” Peter gently holds the pendent hanging from his neck and traces his thumb over the pendent. “I tried to look for her, but it’s been 7 years, and I’ve had no luck. I can’t say she’s dead. I haven’t found her body. So, I’m just, looking for her, helping people along the way too. I just.... I hope she’s okay.” Peter tucks the pendent behind his shirt and looks at Wade. “….I’m…sorry,” Wade mutters. Peter smiles, “Like you said, don’t need to say that.”

Their attention back on the fire, Peter clears his throat and speaks, “I’ll help you.” Wade widens his eyes and glances at Peter. Peter shrugs, “Honestly, I was just going to leave you be, because my God, you are annoying.” Wade chuckles and places a hand on his cheek in a joking manner, “Why thank you, Petey! It's a God given gift.” Peter only laughs and continues, “But, I guess you’re nice and fun to be ‘round. And we have a common goal in mind. If we work together, we can find Ellie and my Aunt and get out of this hellhole.” Peter holds up his bottle of water, “Pals on a road trip?” Wade grins and raises his, clinking his bottle against Peter’s.

“Pals on a fucking road trip, Baby.”


	4. Friends And Fun In Paradise

* * *

23 July 20X7, 1:55pm

_Summer_

 

“How does that web thingy work? It looks so cool- Holy shit, let me try!!”

Peter slaps Wade’s hand lightly from reaching to his wrist where his web shooting device clung onto. He admired the man’s enthusiasm though. “No way I’m letting you play with it. It’s my only weapon. And god forbid, you’ll waste it all trying to make some web sculpture.” Wade gasps dramatically at Peter and strikes an exaggerated pose on a boulder, laying on it as if hurt and struck by an arrow, “You wound me Webs. It was going to be a sculpture of you, but alas, I lack the tools to create such masterpiece because you won’t share.”  Peter snorts, much as he wants to hold it back, and rolls his eyes while Wade chuckles at his own joke, getting up and catching up with his road trip pal.

“Okay, I’m tempted to see you craft your masterpiece. But seriously, these webs are limited. And I can’t make more until we find a lab, which is like, a month’s walk away.”

“But could you maaaaybe let me try swinging with it? I saw it in a comic once.”

“No way, I don’t even know if this web fluid can hold my weight. I don’t want you doing something stupid.”

“Again, wounded. Right in the heart. Please kiss it better for me Petey.”

“Not a chance.”

Peter chuckles at Wade fake pouting like a child, which puts a smile to his face when he manages to make Peter laugh. Admittedly, Peter had gotten used to how annoying Wade had been, and started to quip back at Wade’s attempt to flirt. Peter had once upon a time told jokes with his friends (admittedly, pun based and lame), and all that changed when the apocalypse happened. Now, he's silent and stoic when he saves the survivors and talks with them. But with Wade, it was an entirely different response, it made Peter laugh genuinely for the first time in a while. Wade was really entertaining to be with, if you look past the snarky attitude, the lewd references, and the non-stop flirting. It was part of the “Wade charm”.

They stop by a picnic area in the park, abandoned and overgrown with unattended morning glory vines and bushes with many kinds of flower creeping over man-made structures. Peter removes the cloth covering his mouth and places his goggles above his eyes while Wade plucks off one of the flowers and starts to suck at the honey of the flower. “How do you know it’s safe?” Peter asks, placing the bag on the ground instead of one of the tables that are covered with mushrooms and moss. “I tried every flower I came across and determined which ones were safe and which ones gave me a horrible tummy ache,” Wade responds in a matter-of-fact way and tosses the flower aside. “How on earth are you alive?” Peter cannot imagine how. Wade shrugs at the rhetoric question and opens his bag, digging out days old shirts, tattered and torn and soaked in blood.

“We gotta go shopping for fresh clothing,” Wade notes as he tosses the shirts away in a mouldy bin, “I’m thinking a glitter bomber jacket and a bright pink cropped top. It’s so in season.” Peter looks into his bag and holds up his ripped shirts and unfortunate jacket he had held on for a long while, now ripped and sleeveless when he had to use its sleeves as a last resort to bandage his arm from a nasty cut. Wade was right. Not the crop top and the bomber jacket, although it would look spectacular on Wade outside of a zombie situation. But they do need new clothing, and something to last them through the cold season that would come. Including food and water, they were running out of kits, so maybe they could stock on-

“Peter?”

It was soft, but Peter heard someone calling him and turned to look at Wade, “Did you call me?” Wade shakes his head and shrugs, “I was just rambling on about cute matching outfits we could wear while you were zoning out. But I didn’t call you. Those guys did.” Wade gestures at two figures in a distance with his thumb and Peter looks up. The two distant figures call him again this time more sure, and louder, “Peter!” Both of them are waving and running towards Peter and Wade. It takes a while for Peter to recognise the wavy red head and the blonde hair when he places his goggles back over his eyes, but when he does, he gets up immediately and runs towards them, tackling both of them with a hug. Peter laughs and relishes in a hug he finds familiar and remembers.

 

“MJ! Gwen! It’s- It’s you!”

 

MJ laughs and hugs him tighter, “Missed ya’ too, Tiger.”

 

 

“How in the world did you two find each other?” Peter’s mask and googles are both in his bag and a pair of old glasses sits where the pair of goggles once sat, in favour of just being himself in front of his friends. “It’s a long story. Gwen and I found each other during the first four hours of this whole thing happening, and we tried to find you at the border. But we couldn’t find you, or your Aunt and Uncle. We left to try and find you, but they told us that the border would close by the next day.”

“Wait, did they say they would open it again?” Peter’s eyebrows knit, thinking back at all the times he told those people to go to the border, hoping it was not wrong to point them there. “We’re not sure,” Gwen answers, shrugging her shoulders, “But it’s been like, seven years. I’m sure they would open it again for the remaining survivors who couldn’t make it in time. Their last ship left that day, and the next one….Well, we don’t know when the next one will come.” MJ ruffles Peter’s hair and chuckles, “More on that later. Why are we not talking about how 7 years made you look hotter?” Peter blushes at that comment but lightly nudges MJ’s shoulder and laughs. “Didn’t know a nerd like you could even have muscles! I can imagine May and Ben’s face seeing how much you’ve changed!”

“Speaking of, where are they? I thought you’d be together.” MJ and Gwen look at him, only to see Peter’s smile drop. “Uncle Ben…passed. He didn’t make it.” Peter replied, trying not to think about it and quickly changing the subject, “Aunt May’s missing, and I’ve been wandering round looking for her.” “Then who’s that?” MJ quickly points to Wade, who is trailing behind them and whistling some tune they have never quite heard before. Peter was glad MJ picked up on the need to change the subject and approaches Wade, snapping him out of his world. “This is Wade. We just met a month ago. And we’re just friends-” “Pals. On a road trip.” Wade adds, winking at nobody and Peter scoffs at him through a smile. “Pals on a road trip,” Peter repeats, correcting himself. MJ smiles and holds a hand up for Wade to shake, “Name’s Mary Jane, but just call me MJ. Wade shakes her hand and grins, “Glad to be of service, and by the way, liking the way you’re rocking the cute boots.” MJ chuckles, nodding, “I’m starting to like you, Wade.” Peter only snorts and leans in to fake a whisper at MJ, loud enough for Wade to hear, “Stick a while for an hour and you might just change your mind.” MJ folds her arms and laughs, giggling with Gwen when Wade clutches his chest and looks at Peter, “You got to stop doing this to me Baby boy, my heart cannot take this much snark.”

“And my name’s Gwen. MJ and I have been friends with Peter for a long time. Ever since he wore glasses. So if you want to know more about Peter’s embarrassing past, just ask us.” Gwen smiles at Peter’s groaning, rubbing his face. “Please don’t you two, I thought we were friends.” Wade ignores Peter’s statement and grins at Gwen, “Please do tell. I would love to hear his nerd days. Tell me, was he cute? God I need pictures- Wait!” Wade suddenly stops in his tracks and looks at the three. “Who am I kidding, we have all the time to gossip when we go shopping!” “Basically, we need new clothing. And food,” Peter rephrases. MJ and Gwen look at each other and think for a bit, before MJ replies, “I think I know a place.”

 

\--

 

23 July 20X7, 3:05pm

 

“Lord bless Target,” Wade proclaims as he sits himself snug in a trolley with his legs dangling out, “who knew that in times of crisis and despair, our lord and saviour, Target, would help us?” Wade points to the clothing sign dangling from the ceiling and shouts, “To paradise! …..” Wade turns to Peter who is behind him and gingerly looks at him, “This is the part where you push me to paradise.” Peter only chuckles and ruffles Wade’s hair, walking ahead with MJ and Gwen, “I’m not pushing you.” Wade groans and climbs out of the trolley, pushing it instead and catches up with Peter. “You’re no fun, Petey.”

Normally, Peter would have just picked out whatever clothing seemed comfortable and fit for him and went, like every other "Shopping trip" in the past years. But now, MJ and Gwen are with him, and Wade, who loved to try on every article of clothing he could get his hands on and found cute, or hot and somehow got MJ and Gwen into it. Peter could not help but laugh at their ballsy attempts to wear something ridiculous and having fun. Wade was the worst, wearing crop top singlets with the most ridiculous of glitter pants, and trying on the cringiest of hats and sunglasses.

When Wade walks out of the changing room with a white sundress and knee length heel boots, Peter could not help but marvel at how perfectly he cat-walked with a 6-inch. Wade strikes a pose in front of a ridiculously dressed MJ and Peter and grins, “Thoughts? Give me professional critique.” MJ cocks a brow and smiles, looking at Wade from head to toe as if observing and calculating a score in her head. “I’d say…. A solid 8 out of 10. You need obnoxiously big bangles on you to complete the look.” Wade looks at Peter, “And your verdict?” Peter stands up and plays along, glancing at him, “If you wore that to Ms. Universe, they will make you a God.” Wade’s eyes widen and he starts laughing, grinning widely at Peter and exclaims, “You made a joke! Oh my god!” “You finally got Peter to do what men couldn’t do,” MJ quips.

 

Peter listens to the way Wade laughs and blushes a little. He’s heard Wade laugh at his own jokes before, but this one was different. It was richer and heartier, something that made Peter’s heart flutter a bit. And Peter liked that he did that, that he made the man laugh like that. Was he overthinking it? He does not know why he wants to do it again.

When MJ leaves to get rid of her ridiculous getup, Peter squeezes the pile of fresh clothing he had picked out in his hand and looks at Wade. “But really though, you look, amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man walking in heels. Ever. And still look....well, amazing.” Wade chuckles and turns to take off the heels, “I would love to wear these and amaze you even more, but they wouldn’t be zombie-apocalypse-appropriate, would they?” Peter chuckles lightly and shrugs, “A shame really.

As Peter wanders off to find food, Wade smiles to himself, and he feels warm, a flutter in his stomach.


	5. Honeymoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the late update, I had a writer's block mid way writing this, but I finally found the words I wanted to use to express this chapter's plot.

23 August 20X7, 3:36pm

_Summer_

 

The pebble Wade flung at the rushing water skips a few times before sinking to the bottom of the river. He lets out a groan and kicks his leg at the grass before sitting down with a loud sigh, clearly bored. Clinging onto his green bomber jacket, relatively new from their Target trip, Wade tries his best to sheild himself from the chill of the oncoming Autumn breeze.  “How long does it take two perfectly capable, independent women to hunt meat? I have seen MJ and Gwen done shit that even I would piss my pants if I tried to take them on.” Peter does not look up at Wade, only concentrated on fixing whatever malfunction happened to his web shooters with a screwdriver. But he still laughs along lightly and replies, “Well, maybe if you have patience, Gwen and MJ will come back in no time.” Wade only scoffs at him and sits up to stare at the river and the way the water hits the rocks scattered across the running stream.

“How about you tell me a story, Daddy? I could listen to something while I fix this…damn thing,” Peter asks, getting a bit frustrated when the third web he shoots comes out in messy splurges. The joke is rewarded with a laugh from Wade and he hears Wade digging through his bag to pull out something. “I thought Golden girls was entertaining!” Wade holds up the little ipod in his hand, relatively intact and covered in scartches. They had snagged it in an abandoned vehicle on their way, and with the batteries they thought to get from the shelves of the Target store, they could only find songs from the Golden Girls, which was weird, but no one complained,  given their current situation. That is until they replayed the same songs for the thirtieh time, and when Wade started hollering along to the lyrics that grabbed the attention of a group of quick-moving zombies. Peter did not stay long enough to find out what Wade, MJ and Gwen did to them.

Peter lets out a loud groan in response, looking at Wade, “God no, I’m so tired of that. No offence to your loyalty to Golden Girls, but I want to hear something else.” Wade only pouts and tosses the ipod back into his opened bag. Peter sits up from his awkward position and smies, “So, tell me a story.” Wade thinks for a bit, watching Peter tinkering with the web shooters and turns to stare at the river. “I…remember the first months being with Ellie,” Wade starts, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket, “I think we went to a river just like this. But it was bigger, and the water was clear and you could see the fishes swimming in it. Wish you could’ve seen it Baby boy.” Wade takes a peek at Peter at the corner of his eye to see if he was still listening and continues, “It was my one day off. No tasks, no boss telling me what to do, or kill. Just, my alone time, with Ellie. And the whole river was empty, no one was there. It was like it was our own zone, and we could do whatever stupid things we could do!” Wade laughs at the memory of him chasing Ellie down with a trout in hand, lips puckered and ready to kiss its victim. “We went fishing, chased each other with fishes, and I could never imagine a girl as little as her pick up a huge ass fish! It was like…this big! I was so proud of her!” He stretches his arms out in exaggeration, and smiles even wider when he hears Peter chuckle. “And then we had the most unhealthy meal ever, barbequed those fishes and experimented with a lot of sauces and food combos. We tried to see who could make the other puke, but it turns out Ellie’s recipes just give you shitty stomach aches, which was worse than puking.”

Wade sighs at the memories flooding back in his mind and rests his chin on his knees. “After that, I got busy. Really busy. I didn’t see her a lot, and I wish I did. If I knew this shit would happen, I would’ve gladly dropped everything and be with her.”

 

Peter observes Wade silently remembering his past, and he understands. He knows what it’s like to wish for something, to go back in time and make up for things. “I remember my …. Uncle. He’d take me to Central Park and we would feed the ducks, and we’d make elaborate stories about those ducks. I remember it because my Uncle told me one that made me laugh so hard I almost choked on the juice I was drinking.” Wade laughed at the thought of it which got Peter to throw a tiny pebble at him in retort, “We also fished. But I was an impatient kid admittedly, and we didn’t get anything most days. But at the end of the day, we would always get ice cream, everytime we went, and we would talk about a lot of things.” Peter stops tempering with the web shooters and looks at the river, smiling wistfully at the memories. But his smile falters when he remembers not going to Central Park like that when he went to high school, and he wishes they had never stopped.

“I wish we didn’t stop doing it. I was so busy with school, and getting a job, being good at my job- And now, I can’t do those things with my Uncle anymore since he….”

Peter stops himself from continuing and looks at the ground, clearing his throat. He does not want to remember, still. Wade frowns at Peter after a long silence and speaks in a soft tone, “You can talk about it, you know. Your Uncle sounds like he means a lot to you.” But Peter ignores Wade’s attempt to comfort him and unbuckles the web shooters in frustration, shoving them into the bag, “These web shooters are useless. Components crushed to bits and all, and I can’t fix them unless I have equipment, which is a two month walk away.” Peter throws his hands to his face and rubs it, groaning, “Life. Hates me.”

 

Peter peeks at Wade, expecting the man to give up all attempts of getting anymore of his past out of him, which would be good for the both of them in his oopinion. He did not want Wade to see him in a mess if he spilled. But what Peter does not expect is Wade to suddenly push him into the river, earning a yelp from Peter and garbled noises as Peter attempted to gain his footing. Peter instead opts to sit up and glare at Wade, who is laughing uncontrollably and stepping into the water. “What was that for?!” Wade only splashes more water at Peter, encouraging Peter to splash back. Wade fakes a pout and shrugs, “I’m bored, Petey! And besides, we can cool down under this heat!”

“It’s freezing, you butthead!”

Peter pulls Wade down with him and drenches him from head to toe, causing his white shirt starts to stick to his body, as Peter observes, and it makes him blush. But he quickly covers it up with another splash attack at Wade and soon enough, a water fight ensues. Wave after wave, their clothes becoming heavier with soaked up water, and the more ridiculous their stunts get, Wade attempting to dive bomb into the water to send massive waves at Peter. The water fight leaves Peter and Wade drenched and Peter tackled to the shore of the river, their laughter echoeing through the empty air as they take their time to collect their composures. But as Peter moves the tufts of hair stuck to his forehead, he notes that Wade is hovering above him, a couple of inches away from his face and he becomes silent. Something in his heart flutters when he listens to the man laugh and the way he smiles at Peter, and his stoamch flips when his eyes trail to his lips that are glossy from the water. It takes a while for Wade to realise their situation and he immediately rolls to the side, laying next to Peter and blushing whie avoiding Peter’s eyes which are on him.

Peter feels Wade’s finger gently brush his, and his feels the same fluttering again, feeling his cheeks heat up and quickly turns the other way. But he says nothing about it.

They lay in silence for a bit, feeling the cool breeze bite their skin. “You know, it’s okay to tell me things. Not…. bottle things up. I heard it’s a hero thing to do, but it’s not healthy,” Wade speaks in a soft tone, concerned, “I know it’s weird to open up about things like that to someone you’ve just met a few months ago. And probably insane,” he chuckles at the last statement, “And it’s not my place to ask you to spill about sensitive things. But, I just want you to be... okay. And that, I’m here for you. So are Gwen and MJ.”

Wade waits for Peter to reply, or say anything really. He could not see Peter’s face in response to his open statement, god he hoped he did not sound like a creep. Wade tries to add something but a voice calls out to them in a snarky tone.

“Hey lovebirds! Why on earth are you drenched?” MJ chuckles and carefully steps down from the top of the hill to join them, along with Gwen. Their kill is slung over MJ’s shoulders, a decent sized boar that had the tiniest of horns, but was fat enough for a meal for four. Peter immediately sits up with a blush and yells, “We are not lovebirds, MJ!” Wade notices the blushing, opting not to say anything about it and instead laughs along and teases, “Aww, I thought we were, webs! We were on our honeymoon!” Peter scoffs under a smile and gets up to grab his bag. “Can’t believe you two were having a honeymoon while we sloughed for our meal. OUR meal.” Gwen sighs and throws an old towel at Wade to dry himself, “Just go and change while we handle the boar.”

When Peter walks past MJ, he notices the wink MJ sends at him. “My god MJ, We. Are not. Dating!” Peter whispers harshly at her in annoyance, but MJ only laughs and slaps his back, “Go get him, Tiger!” Peter resorts to grumble into the cloth he has in his hands as he dries his hair. He is not in love with Wade Wilson.

 

Never Wade Wilson.

 

\--

 

26 October 20X7, 2:24pm

_Autumn_

 

The land they trudge on is covered in red and orange hues of leaves scattered on the ground, a sign of winter approaching. Peter clings onto his jacket tightly when a breeze blows past them and he moves a bit closer to the group to listen to Wade’s retelling of his kitchen disaster with Ellie.

“I didn’t even know how a kid can wreck this much havoc in a kitchen. All for cupcakes…. But let me tell you, those were the absolute best. Once all of this is over, I wanna go back to cooking, maybe make a career out of it. That is if they’ll still mass produce baking produce again…”

When Wade laughs along with Gwen and MJ, Peter’s stomach does a flip and he looks away. He could not understand why he keeps feeling a flutter in his chest or a flip in his stomach, more like he does not want to accept the blatantly obvious answer to that. It all came back to that time at the river. When Wade laughed and helped clear his frustrations, when Wade hovered over him, when Wade told him not to bottle things up. Ever since then, Peter would blush at Wade’s flirting but always brushed it off with a laugh or retaliation. He would stare at the way Wade laughed or smiled at Peter’s jokes or when he attempted to recreate stunts he had seen Peter do, and hoped Wade did not see how creepy that was. What was worse was that Peter loved it. The way Wade him laugh. The way he made Wade laugh, and all the fluttery feelings he felt in his stomach. It makes Peter want to hold his hands and kiss-

 “Peter, you alright?” Peter snaps out of his internal thoughts and looks at Wade, who has trailed behind MJ and Gwen to join Peter. Trying hard not to blush at what he was thinking and smiles, “Yeah, just thinking about things.” Thank god for the mask, or Wade might just relentlessly attack him with questions as to why his face is so red. Wade smiles and ruffles his hair, “Sure, Webs, thinking about our next honeymoon vacation? I can imagine, Infected Paradise, where they serve intestine cocktails and brains for dinner! It would make a lovely honeymoon.” Peter only snorts and slaps Wade’s shoulder lightly, “God no, that’s gross. I was hoping it’d be more romantic.” Wade raises both hands up and quips, “Wow, unbelievably high standards you have there, Petey. But we don’t need to have a luxurious honeymoon destination to make it romantic, don’t we?” Peter chuckles at the thought of Wade trying to be romantic, suit and everything in a zombie filled wasteland. What a thought it would be.

How on earth could he have a crush for him in an apocalypse-

The earth suddenly shaking below them grabs Peter’s attention from his thoughts. Looking at each other in confusion, they whip their heads at the sound of a heavy vehicle suddenly pulling in, painted in dark colours of blue and green that heavily stand out against the orange hues of the forest. Men and women clad in armoured clothing from head to toe covering up their identities start to pour out of the back of the vehicle, armed with crowbars and guns. Forming an unsusually neat line across them, an uneasy feeling settles into their stomachs and Wade slowly steps in front of Peter, who is defenseless without his functioning web shooters that have yet to be fixed due to the last lab they had found having been raided of its every content.

 

For a moment, it was a standstill, and tension thick in the air.

 

Wade quitely raises his arms and speaks, “Okay, look, we’re just passing by. So why don’t we all just, put the guns and bars down, and-"

A gun fires into the air and Peter is quick to tackle the man to the ground, avoiding the bullet.

“Shit!” Wade grumbles as he unseaths his katanas and looks at Peter, “Is it alright if I unalive people?”

Before Peter could open his mouth to reply, another bullet grazes past them and Wade immediately gets up, running to attack them, “No time for an answer!”

Peter quickly picks himself up and watches MJ and Gwen, shooting at their attackers while Wade dives in and starts…unaliving people, to which he quickly adverts his gaze. A few of them break past the barricade Wade, MJ and Gwen formed and raise their crowbars at Peter. Peter manages to kick them off and dodge many of their every swing, thanks to his nimble feet and quick reflexes until MJ could assist him. Yet, even with Wade’s mercenary skills and MJ and Gwen’s guns in hand, it does not take long for the bullets in their guns to run out, and the realization that they are outnumbered and disadvantaged when a bullet shoots through Wade’s arm, getting a scream out of Wade. Alarms are ringing in Peter’s head as MJ and Gwen push at Peter towards the woods. Wade quickly abandons his katanas in favour of convenience and pulls out his own gun, almost out of bullets from their last use against a zombie horde.

“Fuck- Run! GO!"

 

The four of them break for it into the neck of the woods, signs of losing their attackers inevident as they hear the sound of crisp gunshots in the silent woods and the rustling of leaves. Peter keeps glancing back at Wade, who is grasping tightly onto the wound on his arm and only ever letting go once in a while to fire a few bullets back. God he wanted to turn back and help Wade, but they had no choice but to run, or they would be killed. They ran until their legs could not feel a thing and they stop, bending over to catch their breaths and their legs turning into jelly. The silence in the woods have never felt more refreshing to hear. Peter quickly approaches Wade and holds up his arm, using his face mask to tie it over the wound, muttering in between pants, “I think we lost e’m.” Wade only lets out a sigh. “Yeah, I think we-”

A sickening ‘thwack’ causes the both of them to turn, watching MJ fall to the ground unconcious as Gwen tries to swipe a knife at the approaching masked men. But her knife is immediately wringed out of her hold and knocked unconcious as well. Wade immediately fires a few rounds at the man and readies himself to attack, only ever making it a few steps before getting shot in the leg, earning a yelp from the man as he collapses to the ground, crying in pain. Another shot rings in the air and sends Peter to the ground, a bullet in his leg as blood starts dripping.

Peter bites back the urge to scream as his eyes quickly dart to the gun Wade dropped, quickly propping his arms up and crawling his way towards it, even though in the back of his head, he knows its futile. A kick to his head sends him on the ground again, too weak to fight back when something ties his hands and legs together. Something covers Peter’s mouth as he is being hoisted up, a heavy smell invading his nose that starts to make him drowsy, along with the fatigue. Peter struggles to keep his eyes open, as his vision starts to blurr.

 

“No- no! Let him go! Don’t you dare touch-“

 

A loud, choked, cough from Wade cuts him short, coughing even more as it had a liquid sound to it.

 

“Don’t- Peter, don’t close your eyes- Peter!”

  
  
“Wade…” Peter manages to let out, as if trying to reassure Wade, but his world is turning dark and he could not see where Wade was, only the ground below him moving.

 

“Peter!”

 

And it turns black.


	6. Old Unfriendly Aquiantance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of violence and torture. Not that large, but just a warning.

26 October 20X7, 3:02pm

 

Something wet patters on Wade’s skin, causing him to wake from his conciousness as the world around him clears from a blur. It takes a while for Wade to register that he is on the ground, and tries to pick himself up with his arms on instinct. But a sudden pain shoots through his left arm and he collapses, groaning in pain while clutching his wrapped up arm. The pain and the feeling of the cloth over his bullet wound suddenly has Wade remembering the events that have transpired. Those people that attacked them, heavily armed and armoured. The long run into the forest, and yet somehow they had managed to catch up to them. And the immense pain he felt in his leg as he desperately called out-

 

Peter.

 

They took-

 

Wade looks up at the sky that has considerably darkened with heavy grey clouds that foreshadowed the brewing storm. He quickly propped himself up with his good arm and crawled towards MJ and Gwen, croaking out their names in hopes of waking them up. Wade desperately shook Gwen’s arm, hoping at least one of them would get up, and when Gwen’s eyes fluttered open, Wade sighed in relief and tried his luck with MJ. Gwen began to pick herself up and looked over at MJ, still on the ground but coming to. “What- What happened?” MJ asked as she rubbed the back of her head. Wade pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration and cursed.

 

“They took Peter.”

 

“What?”

 

The sudden pour of rain grabs their attention and wakes MJ and Gwen up, getting up immediately to help Wade as they sling his arms over their shoulders. Wade was tired, and he knew that well when he let his body rest when MJ and Gwen supported him, but he tried to form his thoughts and words, “They took Peter. They took Peter and I let it happen. We have to turn back-” Gwen squeezes Wade’s wrist to stop him and insists, “We can’t go. Not now. It’s too dangerous and you are not in great shape. We are not in great shape.” Wade tries to fire back, but the stinging pain that shoots through his leg reminds him of his temporary handicap and he groans in pain, letting out more curses as he grips his hand into a fist, a weak attempt at distracting himself from the pain. MJ only watches with a pained expression and speaks in a soft tone, as if out of comfort, or pity, “I know, I want to save Peter too, as soon as possible. But us going now is like throwing ourselves to sharks. We are weaponless. And you’re hurt, badly. We can only take shelter and prepare ourselves before we can save Peter.”

Wade does not want to accept it, but they were right. The rain would not help either. And he knows that if they were going to get Peter back in one piece, they need to prepare themselves. So he lets himself slump a bit and allow MJ and Gwen to guide him out of the rain, and prays that Peter would be alright, wherever he could be.

 

\--

 

A splash of cold water on Peter’s face wakes him up from his unconciousness, but the bright light in the room blinds his vision, and he wishes he was still unconcious. Peter’s eyes try to focus on his surroundings, but soon realises his lack of goggles that aid his vision. What he does make out though, are blurs of many figures standing before him and a large figure sitting in front of him. “Jesus, is that you?” Peter manges to say in a hoarse voice. An amused grunt escapes the lips of the man before him before he speaks, “Haven’t changed a bit for two years, Spiderman.” The last word came out of his mouth with a bit of spite, but Peter recognises and remembers the man in front of him.

 

“Wilson Fisk.” The words come out of Peter’s throat, dry. He tries to move to get a proper look, but a sharp pain shoots from his leg, stopping him from moving his leg any farther, and even then, both his legs and arms are constricted by something rough, to what Peter could only assume were thick ropes. “Nice to know you haven’t tried a diet after all these years. You’re like a big, fuzzy blur to me.” Peter could hear Fisk click his tongue and see him jerk his blurred head, only to have someone stand before Peter aand shove something onto his face. When the Fisk before him starts to become clear instead of a blurr, he scrunches his nose to feel hiss glasses resting on his nose. “God, now you’re just a big, sharp sad man,” Peter quips, and it takes a bit of self control not to let out a smirk when the big guy frowns at him, and in a threatening, agitated kind of way.

 

Fisk grunts and stands up, his body almost taking up a quarter of the closeted room they were in and hovers over Peter like a giant, but Peter does not flinch in the slightest. “Don’t think I haven’t forgotten what the hell you did two years ago, Spiderman,” Fisk spits, his voice darkening, “And I hope you haven’t forgotten.” Peter scoffed and looked at Fisk square in the eye, “You were killing people for fucks sake. People who just wanted to get out of this hellhole. You are a madman. And I have never forgotten that.”

 

“Then tell me where on earth you hid it.”

 

\--

 

15 March 20X5, 10:57am

(2 years ago)

 

Peter crept above the metal bars supporting the ceiling of a rather large warehouse, careful to observe the many masked individuals scurrying around the place and unloading crates from the back of a truck.

He heard rumors of the Fisk Gang on his journey. One of the many survivors he had aided mourned over the loss of his husband to Fisk’s men, who was fatally shot and dragged away, never to be seen again. And soon after, many more came to him to tell him of the disappearances of their loved ones to the cruel men of the Fisk Gang. It sparked Peter to investigate the gang, and all his research and spying led him to an abandoned factory, run down on the outside, but alive and very much functioning on the inside. Except they weren’t manufacturing electronics like the factory once did, but rather, gathering and collecting things Peter thought would be impossible to get given the apocalypse.

Peter carefully unbolted the gate of the vent and crawled in, following the men who were moving the crates to another location below him until he reached a room, large and full of stacked crates. Some were open, revealing what looked like equipment for a lab, and numerous objects and vials he had never seen before, or were impossible to get given the apocalypse. “Move these vials into room 2. And get ready for test number 17,” A large burly man bellowed, walking with power and with a dark look, and out of the room. Peter can only assume that this man was Fisk, with how much he stood out and took charge and followed him. They ended up in a room, renovated to resemble a test lab, and Fisk stood before a man tied to a chair with a thick wall of glass seperating them.A smaller woman stood beside Fisk with a clipboard and in a robotic voice, announced, “Test number 17. Open the door.”

It horrifies Peter when he sees the door open to reveal a zombie, decayed with frays of hair on her head, groaning and screeching. She snaps her head to look at the man, screaming and kicking in his seat and crying to be let out, and the zombie launches herself at the man to sink her teeth into his neck. Someone runs into the room, armed with guns and armour and a mask and immediately shoots down the zombie, blood spilling everywhere on the white floors. Peter tries his best not to let out a sound as he watches Fisk give the woman a pointed look without so much as a glance of emotion towards the man in pain and tears. “Give it to him,” the woman speaks, to which the masked man pulls out a needle filled with a red liquid and in one go, sinks the needle into the skin of the unfortunate man, the liquid seeping into his veins and doing whatever work it was supposed to do.

The room is silent for a while. And suddenly, the man convulses, coughing out blood and screaming in pain, as if every vein in his body was burning like fire and not long after, he limps in his seat, his eyes falling and staring at nothing. “Dead,” Fisk notes with a tone and grabs the edge of the table with force until is bends into the shape of his fingers. Peter winces at the foam forming on the man’s mouth and tears his eyes away from the man. “Clean up this mess, and come up with something that works to test on the next one,” Fisk warns the woman with a dark one and Peter watches the woman scuttle away with the clipboard clutched closely to her chest.

Peter stalks after the woman and finds himself above a room filled with lab equipment. The woman sits herself on the desk and opens an old leather journal, with a lot of written notes and red marks. “Must be the written notes for the experiment,” Peter mutters to himself. Now he just has to find a way to get them and-

“Priscillia, Jon needs you again,” The walkie talkie sitting on the table speaks, and the woman rolls her eyes, standing up and taking the walkie talkie with her, “God, it better not be one of those stupid tricks he attempted again.” And just like that, the woman exits and leaves the room empty. Peter opens the vent and drops down onto the floor, landing perfectly (With a pain in his leg. Worth it.) and approaches the journal. He flips through its contents, learning that the vial they had injected the man with was supposed to be a cure to the bite. But with what Fisk was doing, it was cruel, and it was beyond inhuman. To leave people in rooms to only be bitten and then be killed in the most gruesome way by a drug that does not work. And Peter knew this was going to be the way Fisk does things until they find a cure, which would be a long shot given their progress.

 

Peter shoves the journal in his bag and turns back to the vent. But he meets eyes with a woman that had her gun pointing at him, and Peter instinctively aims his wrist at her and shoots a web, sticking to her face and blocking her view. She immediately finds her hand on a button on a wall and slams it before Peter knocks her unconcious, and the alarms in the building blare. “Shit, aw fuck,” Peter swears and bolts out of the door, mentally planning the shortest escape route. While Peter could handle the few gaurds that had found him and attempted to shoot him down, he knew he could not best against an army of them and if he was unlucky enough, Fisk. Yet, when Peter makes it to the core of the factory, a room filled with barrels that were labelled with a fire sign, multiple armed men and women show up from the doors, and soon, Fisk marches in, steaming with anger. “Spiderman.” Fisk spits. Peter quickly glances at the barrels and back at Fisk.

He has a plan. And he only has one shot.

Quickly, Peter reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter, lighting it up and tosses it towards the wooden barrels, and watches as the fire meets the liquid leaking off of the barrels. He hears Fisk yelling something before a large blast sends them flying, Peter slamming into a wall and falling limp onto the ground. Thankfully, it does not knock him unconcious and Peter finds the strength in him to get up. He watches the blazing fire, licking the ceiling and floors of the room and spreading fast. Peter sees Fisk standing up, rubbung off the blood on his face and screams at him, "Don't you dare run away!!" Peter only manages a shrug and a cocky attitude, "Sorry big guy, but I have a ride to catch." And he turns to run and hears Fisk yelling after him.

Peter keeps on running, despite tge smoke getting to him even with the mask on. But he stops when he discovers a locked room, someone banging on its door. Peter manages to hack its lock off and the door swings open, revealing hostages, both men and women, and children too, a few who were crumpled on the ground in sickness from the poor conditions of the room. Peter’s gut sinks when he sees them, knowing what could have happened to them. “We have to go. Now. Carry the children and sick and let’s go!” He carefully carries a small girl in his arms and guides the rest out, who were spewing thanks and tears that someone had finally found and rescued them. “Follow me!!” Peter calls and they run.

They finally make it outside the factory, the fire close to consuming the building. Peter sees a truck, its doors open and key still inside. “Get in that truck! GO!” Peter urges and gently places the girl in the back of the van. Once they were seated in the back of the van and its doors closed, Peter hops onto the the front seat with a woman he had asked to aid him in driving. They get the ignition going and they drive off, a sigh of relief escaping Peter’s lips and notices a smile on the woman’s face in the corner of his eye. He looks at the mirror of the van after he is sure that he is a safe distance from the factory, reflecting the fire burning the building and any trace of whatever research they had made. Peter sees Fisk stepping out along with his men, looking at him with a dark look that is brewing with rage. He vanishes when they drive far enough, where he knows Fisk can no longer get him, not then and not in the future.

But he is so wrong.

 

\--

 

“What are you talking about,” Peter asks, while it was really not a question. Because he knows what Fisk is talking about. A large hand grabs Peter’s neck and encircles it, tightening its grip and causing he to let out a choked gasp. “Don’t play dumb with me. You know what I’m talking about,” Fisk growls, his grip getting tighter and tighter. “The…book?” Peter coughs, “I…burned it.”

Peter did not really burn it. He had buried it in a place he knew. He found valuable information in this research that could aid in finding the a cure to this virus, and if he could find his Aunt May, he could develop a cure after they get the the border. Only he knew where it was. And no way was he going to share it with anyone.

But Fisk would not take that for an answer. Fisk lifts Peter up, seat still tied to him and yells, “LIAR!” Peter could only let out strangled coughs as he tries to choke out an answer, “I. Burned it.” Peter manages to keep his eyes locked on Fisk’s steely one, until Fisk finally drops Peter onto the ground, the chair clanging against the floor as he falls to the side. He coughs and chokes harshly, breathing in heavily and looks at Fisk as he turns away. “Get him to talk,” Fisk says to one of the men in a low voice as he slams to door on his way out. Peter gets picked back up roughly and without a second to breathe, he feels a heavy jolt of electricity on his skin.

 

All he can do is scream.


	7. Man Of Mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions and descriptions of toture

27 October 20X7, 8:17am

 

A sharp sting that travels across Wade’s leg wakes him up from his slumber, the morning sunlight coming from the broken window in front of where he layed blinding him for a few seconds. “Don’t move Wade, I’m just cleaning your wound.” His eyes trail to a figure kneeling beside him and rubbing something cold on his leg. Once Wade’s eyes begin to focus, he makes out Gwen’s blonde hair and blue eyes and groans, “God, please go easy on me.” Gwen rolls the bandage in her hand around the wound and pats it lightly, “Tis’ but a scratch.”

Wade carefully props himself up into a seated position and examines his bandaged leg, the portion of his pants cut and torn in favour of giving the wounded leg some air. “You shouldn’t move around too much. While nothing serious happened to your arm and leg, it still needs time to heal.” Gwen shifts from her position and stands up, cleaning up whatever mess was made, “You scared us too. When we found this place, you collapsed the moment we stepped in. You are awfully heavy to carry around.” Wade only shrugs and pats his stomach, “Must’ve been those chimichangas all those years ago haunting me.” Gwen smiles and rolls her eyes, turning back to a manmade fire with a tin placed on top of it. This gave Wade the opportunity to look around. The heavily dusted family potraits that still hung on the yellow walls and soft old-timey armchairs circling around the fireplace appealed to Wade that the abandoned house once homed an elderly couple. Quite homey, even for an old, broken down house. It also occurs to Wade that MJ was no where to be seen and he turns to look at Gwen.

“Where’s MJ?”

“She went out.”

Gwen places the baked beans with its tin wrapped in a towel in Wade’s hands, and Wade notices the bits of cooked bird floating in its soup, “She said she’d head back to that spot and see if she could find anything. Weapons, supplies, and clues. She should be back soon.” He quickly downs the broth, careful not to burn his lips and tongue.

“Those guys.”

“Huh?”

“Who the hell are they?”

Wade places the empty tin beside him and shifts into a more comfortable position, “They belong to a gang, and they are out there for Peter. I know no one person to have an attack this coordinated.” Gwen takes a while to recall something and a name Wade has heard of rolls out of her tongue. “Wilson Fisk’s.”

Wade had heard of the man back when he was a mercenary. He had worked under him a few times, but it was enough to know that most of his business was shady. Yet, for as shady as his business was, he had managed to stay out of sight from the law and held a large control of a lot of businesses in NYC. He would’ve never expected a man like him to escape. “He’s been recently referred to as King Pin. And he leads a team of men called the Fisk Gang…. Well, at least he used to.” Wade cocked a brow, “What do you mean?” Now it was Gwen’s turn to cock a brow, “I’m surprised you’ve never heard of this.” Wade huffed and crossed his arms, “I was spending 7 years of my life worrying and finding my daughter. I ain’t into juicy gossip these days.”

 

“The Fisk Gang only ever started 5 years ago, 2 years into the zombie apocalypse. They were looting from gangs, survivors, and some said they smuggled things from the border. What’s worse, was that ever since they showed up, there have been a sudden spike in people going missing, mostly told by members of their family or group. No one knows what happened, but everyone had that fingers pointed to The Fisk Gang. And then one day, out of no where, They vanished.”

“What do you mean, ‘vanished’?”

“Rumours and reports of The Fisk Gang smuggling or looting from other gangs and kidnapping people  just…stopped. Many said a fire that broke out in one of the abandoned factories could’ve been a reason why. Everyone thought that that was it after a year of silence….until now.”

 

Wade takes a moment to process whatever information he had been given. The Fisk Gang? Wilson Fisk? Kidnapping people? That man was a mystery…a bad one. “Do you think they have something against Peter?” He asks. “What? You mean like, a grudge?” Gwen’s eyes shift into a look of worry and mutters, “What if they do something bad to him…” Wade falls into the same silence and tries hard not to think about what they could do to him, espacially the man himself. The sound of the door opening distracts Wade and Gwen as MJ walks in, a number of things in her hands and arms, and drops them all on the ground in front of them. “Some of em still had loaded guns, so I managed to get two and a couple of extra bullets. And I got your swords back.” Wade picks up the katana to check on its condition, frowning when he finds one of it shattered in two with a faint tire mark over it. “We are in luck too. One of em had a map pinpointing their location .” MJ rolls out a sheet of paper that has pencil scrawlings, indicating roads, paths and buildings, one marked in red with the words “Hideout”.

Wade carefully examines the routes marked out on the map and points to his bag resting against a wall, “I need something in my bag.” He starts to dig through his bag after Gwen gets the bag for him and finds a crayon set he nabbed from the one of the shelves of the Target Mall out of impulse and picks out a blue crayon. Wade proceeds to map out their path, taking note the observations of their current location given by MJ and Gwen to find out that they were in a much quieter side of the country. The many days he spent being in the military and an ex merc aided him, finally mapping the paper in blue leading them to Fisk’ hideout. “It’s a 2 day walk from here if we’re following the blue trail, including a couple of pit stops here, and here,” He crosses two axes on the blue path and tosses the blue crayon to the side, “and a maximum 7 hours of sleep per day. Whether any zombie hordes come our way or not, it’s another story.

“A 2 day walk huh…..” MJ mutters and rubs her eyes, tired and frustrated. “Means we leave now, as soon as we can,” Wade adds and MJ and Gwen shoot their heads up to look at him as if he was insane. “No, we can’t- you can’t! No way you’re moving that leg for 2 days straight, and now!” Gwen insists. “Trust me, I’ll be fine. My leg has had worse. What I’m worried about is if we don’t get to Peter as soon as possible, they’re going to do worse things to Peter.” Wade looks at them with a serious look and MJ and Gwen look at each other. MJ sighs and turns to look at Wade, “Fine, we leave as soon as we finish packing up.” Wade opens his mouth to say a thanks but is interrupted by Gwen, “But I’ll have to help you.” Wade only chuckles, “No promises I’ll let you help me.”

 

 

Peter awakens to the sound of the heavy door opening, and it takes a lot of effort for him to lift his head to meet Fisk’s eyes. His body is numb from being tied up for a long time and being electrocuted one too many times. He wonders how on earth he is still alive, and if they could anything worse than that. “I hope you slept well,” Fisk mocks and sits in the chair again. Peter has no energy left in him to shoot a quip or joke, so he just glares at the man like he might just shoot lasers out of his eyes. “After all of…that…I’m sure it must’ve taken a lot out of you.” Fisk smirks and pulls the chair closer, and sits up to tower over Peter, “So would you care to tell me. Where. The journal. Is.” Peter spits on the man’s face and speaks as loud as he can, and by that, mutter in a hoarse voice, “Over my dead body.”

Fisk takes a cloth in his pocket and wipes his face with as much control as he can, and when he tucks the cloth away, he stands up and with one swift motion, swings a leg to Peter’s stomach and sends him flying into a wall. Peter feels his head collide against the wall and he falls to the ground, coughing heavily and only ever hearing a low buzz in his head. “Why won’t you just tell you you little rat?!” Fisk yells, stomping up to him. “Why can’t you understand, that this is for the greater good!?” Fisk grabs Peter by the collar of his shirt and pulls him up, throwing him back onto the floor so that he would sit up in his chair. Peter’s clears his throat, and manages a soft, hoarse reply, “Greater good? You were….killing people.” Fisk grunts and folds his arms, “It had to be done. To know if the cure works. Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.” Peter only shoots an angry glare at Fisk and his voice breaks, “I know what you’re going to do with the damn cure! You weren’t even going to save people. You were going to exploit the people, just like you did before all of this happened!!” Peter lets out another coughing fit and he feels something trickle down his mouth, the taste of something metalic in his tongue. Despite that, Peter still manages to cough out one last thing, “Greater good? You are a fraud and pig.” 

Fisk watches Peter resume his coughing fit and stands up. Turning, he mutters to the men standing at the door, “Give him hell till he talks.”

And with that, Peter is again subjected to the tasers and the brutal punches and left screaming.


	8. Worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is yet, a super short chapter, but the next chapter promises to be even longer and we'll probably get to see Wade being a murder machine.

27 October 20X7, 1:09pm

 

Wade studies the map in hand makes a mental note to fill up their canisters at the next riverbed, to which he circles on the map with his crayon. Wade looks up to see the dark clouds rolling in yet again, similar to yesterday’s. He gestures to the sky with one hand with the other holding a large stick as his walking aid, “There’s a storm rolling in, so we have to take shelter.” Gwen speaks up before any of them could, “We can press forward. We have our jackets and everything. If we want to reach Peter as soon as we can, we can’t stop because of the rain.”

“Then we press on,” MJ says with a nod after seconds of silence, “a bit of rain won’t hurt us.”

As MJ turns to walk on, Wade walks along side Gwen and places a hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner, “Worried?” Gwen only sighs and folds her arms, “After all of that talk we had, I couldn’t really stop worrying about Pete, and what they’ll do to him. What if we get there and we find out Peter is-“ Gwen stops herself from saying anything after that and clears her throat, “I just… feel guilty. Which is dumb because I know The Fisk Gang were the ones that took Peter and hurt us. But I wish I could’ve helped more, if I was just faster with that knife, if I had just dodged that knife. Then maybe Peter would still be with us. I saw him getting dragged you know. He was limp and everything. Before I passed out.”

Good thing Wade knows a thing or two about guilt.

“I know, I saw him get dragged away too. And the horror and panic in his eyes? I really wished I could’ve done something too, mutilate more of e’m or anything. Even back then, when I lost my baby girl. That guilt is still there, and this guilt I have won’t go until I find her.” Wade places Gwen’s hood up when the trickles of rain start falling on them, “So the only thing we can do is to get Peter back, no matter what.” Wade pulls his hood over his head and gives Gwen a reassuring smile.

“You think he’ll be okay?”

“He’ll be okay. He’s Peter Parker.”

 

\--

 

28 October 20X7, 11:23pm

 

“Wade? Are you still awake?”

Wide. Wade could barely sleep a wink at this point, even though they had set up camp nearly an hour ago. Though he could thank the canopy above them that had kept the ground dry from the rain and any storm that could roll in while they sleep. They were at least sleeping in comfort, as far as comfort could get in this land. He had been worrying in the back of his head, and the numbing in his leg and arm did not really help. Although he had been an amazing mercenary as yours truly claims, a nagging voice in the back of his head always worried about the worse outcome of every mission if he should fail, not that he ever. But this one concerned himself with someone he truly cared. And he could think of a million ways he could fuck it up, given that this time, he had no knowledge of the layout of the building, the enemy count, and just how strong his enemy had gotten since their last encounter years ago. Whether Peter would live or die, it depended on them.

Wade sits up and turns to MJ, who is still up. She had volunteered to keep watch for  zombies and gangs attempting to take their supplies, even though Wade protested that she needed rest for tommorrow’s big day. MJ takes a seat on a fallen log across Wade and their makeshift fire. “What’s up?” Wade asks. MJ shrugs and throws a couple of sticks into the fire, “Just worried. Like all of us are.” MJ sighs and cups a hand over her cheek, resting on it as her elbow sits on her knee, “I just pray that whatever happens tommorrow, we get Peter out and well. All of us. He deserves to see his Aunt May again,” MJ looks at Wade with a piercing look, one that held a lot of hope and determination, “He has to.”

The man nods along and returns the same look at MJ, “We will…. We will.”

 

\--

 

 ?? October 20X7, ??:?? ??

  

Peter focuses all of his attention listening to the low thrumming of thunder muffled by the thick walls in a room lacking in windows, praying that it would distract him from the countless kicks to the ribs and back he is currently getting that were painful to the point of numbing. He does not know how long he has been in here, but it feels like years, even though he knows it really is not.

The last kick to the gut earns a cough of blood out of Peter as he gasps from the pain surging back into his body from its numbing. Peter lets the man pull him up from the collar without a fight and fails to make eye contact. “So, mind telling us about the journal now?” Peter, of course, remains silent, partially out of exhuastion, and mostly out of not outing the secret shared between him and himself. Peter gets dropped onto the ground with a loud thump to the head and the sound of thunder in his head is obscured by ringing. He hears the door close and the silence envelop the room. Peter lays limp on the floor and coughs out whatever blood there is in his mouth, only ever glad that they had opted to remve him from the chair and giving him a bit more freedom, even if he’s on the ground.

Thirsty.

He’s thirsty.

And hungry.

And tired. Very.

He feels the pangs of hunger in his stomach and the dryness of his throat from the lack of food and water they’re giving him, another tactic to make him spill. Peter knows that even if he spills where the journal is or not, they would kill him either way, but the thought of them killing him or him dying from starvation or from getting kicked or punched wrong sends him into a panic. He could only pretend to be brave for so long, and right there and then does he start to break when there is no one around there to witness it. His breathing becomes heavy and the tears threaten to roll out of fear. He can’t die now. Not when Aunt May is still out there. Not when he has yet to know if she is still alive. He hasn’t said goodbye to them, not MJ, not Gwen. And not Wade. He hasn’t told him-

He hasn’t told Wade he loved him.

That last thought snaps Peter back to reality and made him rethink his last thought. He….loved Wade? The same question repeats in his head and he remembered things about Wade; The way he flirted with him, and all the times he told the most horrible of jokes. But even after all that annoying things, Peter still laughed. He still opened up to the ex-merc, and almost shared with Wade his Uncle Ben’s death, something he had kept in the frathest reaches of his mind for so long for the fear of remembering what he did to his Uncle. And even then, he had wished he did, and cried then and there.

Peter recalls all those time they were close to something more than a friendship, those times when Peter flirted back, and when they were inches away from their lips touching when Wade tackled him from the river, and heat crept onto his cheeks.

He loved Wade.

God, he loved him.

Peter slowly inhales and exhales, calming himself down and pushes himself as gently as he could without disturbing his injuries too much and props himself up into a sitting position against the wall, too exhuasted to even stand. “Can’t….can’t give yet,” Peter mumbles dryly to himself as if it would provide him a larger spark of determination than reciting it in his head, “calm down… Pete. They’ll come.”

He lets himself rest, and sleep off the pain.

And he waits for whenever tommorrow would come.


	9. The Big Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter I have written so far and will ever write

29 October 20X7, 9:10am

**_Hell Will Break Loose_ **

 

“Okay, so I did some scouting round the building,” Wade whispers amongst the three of them as they crowd behind a bush that shields them from the gaurds walking around the supposed abandoned factory. Its walls were green with grime and moss creeping towards its top. “There’s a back door that has two gaurds gaurding it, easy for me to take down. But once we get in, we go stealth mode, long enough that no one gets alerted and gets to Peter before we get to him. You gals are good at sneaking, right?” MJ and Gwen give Wade a thumbs up, sure of all the times they had snuck past hordes of zombies they had come across through the years.

“Any door you find, bust it open. We can’t leave any room out. When any of us finds and secures Peter, find the nearest fire alarm and sound it. Moment we hear that, run like hell and meet at the rendevous point there,” Wade points at the large garage area that was open, revealing the many vans and familiar trucks parked inside. “So, any questions?”

 

One swing of a sword at the two gaurds was enough to take them down, their disregard for wearing protective armour helping with the act. Wade undresses the two gaurds, leaving behind their undergarments and tosses the clothing to MJ and Gwen. While they slip on their disguises, Wade rumages through the belt pockets of the gaurds and takes out their tasers, handing them to Gwen and MJ, now fully clothed and disguised as Fisk’s men with the hats covering their hair, “Use these to stun any Fisk member you bump into,” He slides his katana back to its sheath and pulls out the pocket knife Peter had given him all those months ago. It still made him smile at the memory of meeting Peter for the first time, “We don’t want em hollering while we take e’m down.”

With a strike at the handle, it dislodges and dangles from its door and the three enter, immediately greeted by a guard, who unfortunately got tased into unconciousness by MJ before he could do anything. “At least we know the tasers work,” Gwen pips as Wade undresses the man and puts on the uniform. Although it proved to be a bit tight, it served its purpose well on Wade. Wade quickly shoves the unconcious body into one of the cupboards lined up against the walls and puts on his cap, moving on with MJ and Gwen as they stealthed their way around the gaurds and into the rooms. And with every door opened and room explored through every inch, the more hope they were starting to lose.

“You don’t think they….” Gwen mutters when they closed the door to the 13th room they have searched. Wade only shakes his head and furrows his brows and insists, “No. Not until we search the last room. You two head on. I’ll check the rooms in the North building.”

 

Wade quickly silences the unsuspecting guard in the control room with the pocket knife and drops him to the ground. Rubbing the blood off his face with his shoulder, he approaches the wall of moniters that survey the floors of the building. He makes his way to the table full of buttons and finds one that controls which cameras he could go through. Wade taps away at the button and the screen shifts its images from room to room, some empty while others with gaurds either chatting away or running around and acting busy, unbeknownst to them that there are intruders in the building. He shifts his eyes when he sees a room with a dead body of what looked to be a once innocent civillian. Worry was starting to build up in his mind that wondered if Peter really did end up having shared a similar fate. But just as he was starting to give up, the camera flashes to a dimly lit room, a limp body only ever so slightly visible in the view of the camera. When Wade registers the familiar suit and set of hair, Wade immediately leaves the room and books it down to Room 23 as shown on its screen.

 

 

Peter cracks open his eyes at the sound of the door shifting open and his vision is hazy, only ever able to make out the shadow of the figure that enters, the shape of the familiar uniform belonging to Fisk’s men forming alongside the large body. The figure stays there, still as it stares at him, whether with ill intent or not, Peter can’t figure out, because eyes zoom in one the knife they are holding in their hand and he thinks the worse of what is to come. His eyes shoot open wide and he starts to struggle, weak but with as much energy as he can, and he panics, even more startled when the figure approaches him and grabs him to still him. He tries to kick the person, but his legs would not budge an inch, too weak from having layed limp on the ground for too long and being tied to a chair previously. He’s however, surprised when the figure drops the knife and throws the cap from his head aside, hearing a soothing voice.

 

“Whoa, hey baby boy, calm down, it’s just me, calm down…” Wade hushes as he stops Peter from moving anymore least he hurt himself or make any wound he has worse. Peter’s struggling starts to quell and he blinks, squinting his eyes to look at Wade. “It’s Wade. Wade Wilson.” Peter takes a moment to recognise the voice and the man coming into view and begins to calm himself down and relaxes. He lets his body and head lay back limp, holding onto Wade’s hand with very little strength and laughs a little, out of sheer relief that it was Wade, and that he was not going to die. “Hey…” Peter croaks out. Wade takes a once-over at Peter’s body and his heart sinks. “God, you’re horrible. What the shit did they do to you?” Wade lifts up the jacket stained in blood and looks at the bruised and bloodied skin, a nasty shade of purple covering his pale skin that made Wade visibly wince. A look at his legs and Wade notes that the bullet that had been pierced into his leg since three days before was still in there. Wade carefully cuts up the pant on Peter’s leg and examines the bullet wound while picking up the pocket knife he had carelessly dropped onto the floor so as to not scare Peter. “Alright Pete, I’m getting the bullet out. But it’s gonna hurt a shit ton. So just…bear with me, alright?” Peter only lets out a soft grumble, to which Wade takes as a yes. As carefully as possible, he positions the tip of the blade near the flesh. Despite the years of experience with bullets wounds and taking them out, it does not stop Wade’s hand from shaking a bit. He quickly does the deed, nudging the bullet from its hole to which Wade had made bigger with the blade and it drops to the floor with a clink and the blood flows out.

Wade can hear a choked sob coming from the Peter, voice too weak and hoarse to let out so much as a gasp and Wade wraps up the wound tight with the cloth from Peter’s ripped pants. Wade instinctively cups Peter’s cheek and swipes a thumb over a stray tear as Peter struggles to breathe through the pain. “I’m so sorry baby boy, just bear with it a little longer.” Carefully tucking an arm under Peter’s back and the other under his legs, Wade scoops Peter into his arms and gets up, turning the leave.

“Glasses-“

Peter manages to gasp out and it Wade takes a while process what he is talking about until he sees the pair glasses abandoned on the ground. Miraculously, it’s lenses are still intact, despite its plastic frame almost close to breaking into pieces given one more step on it. Wade picks it up after a bit of struggle and shoves it into his pocket. And as quickly as he leaves, Wade manages to find the nearest fire alarm and slams it.

 

“Peter! Holy shit-“ Gwen cries as the three of them bump into each other on their way to the rendevous point. Peter was leaning against Wade’s chest, eyes closed and unconcious. Gwen brushes the hair away from Peter’s face and wipes the blood away from his lips, heaving a sigh of relief when she sees Peter’s chest rising and falling. “Take Peter and wait for me at the rendevous point,” Wade says as he carefully hands Peter over to Gwen, who took Peter’s weight a bit harder than Wade did, “if it starts to get difficult holding back the Fisk Gang, take one of the vans and go.” Wade turns to run, but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder belonging to MJ, “What are you doing? We have to go together.” A loud roar of anger that echoes through the building disrupts Wade from replying and a dark call for a Peter Parker is followed. “I got shit to settle. We can’t have that man coming back for Peter and our asses ever again,” Wade replies and quickly takes his leave. He hears the voice of Gwen calling out to him, urging him to tread carefully.

 

Wade steps into a large room, resembling a mess hall. But its tables where either turned over or broken, and instead made way for barrels of petroluem and kerosene, probably there to aid in the lighting of conventional gas lamps littered throughout the building and power up the vehicles they have in hand. Part of its ceiling had collapsed and allowed the sunlight to seep in, to which Wade looks to examine the estimated time of day.

A heavy grunt approaching Wade caught his attention. He notices a rather large burly man walking up to him, a kind of grandeur in his steps that held a heavy weight, literally and figuratively, like a calm before the storm. He remembers the familiar bald head and dark face and turns his body towards him to address him, hand hovering over his gun in case Wilson Fisk decided he would not play any games. “Wade Winston Wilson,” the words roll out of Fisk’s tongue, “I would’ve never imagined meeting you again in a situation like this outside the mask. Who knew Deadpool would be wondering around the same wasteland.” Wade only chuckles dryly, “I abandoned ‘Deadpool’ long ago, Tubby. And I could say the same to you.” Fisk scoffs and rolls his shoulders, as if readjusting himself and says, “I was finding a cure like a good man should. Don’t you know? With great power comes great responsibility, even if it calls for… a few… sacrifices.” Something about what Wade said about responsibility had him see red in anger, it irritated him. “I don’t care what you wanted to do or what the heck you are planning to do. But you did shit you shouldn’t have done.” Wade and Fisk have started entering the imaginary ring, circling each other, “You hurt my friends. You hurt me and my leg which hurt like a bitch. And most of all, you hurt Peter. A lot. And you’re gonna have to pay for that.” In an instant, Wade slides his gun out of his pocket and fires a shot at Fisk.

It should have occurred to Wade as to the reason he might have been called King Pin in the early years, and recall his character profile from all those years ago, because he instantly regrets having fired that shot when he sees the bullet clatter onto the floor with a soft clink, and Fisk looking at it, unfazed. “Holy cheese on a stick,” Wade mutters and tosses the gun away, rendered useless by Fisk’s thick, bullet proof armour of a skin. Fisk let’s out a roar of laughter, both of amusement and of sinister intent and cracks his knuckles, “Fight me and prepare to die!”

Wade draws his katana, Bea, from her sheath and swiftly dodges Fisk’s bull-like ramming. One thing Wade can be grateful for and take advantage of was Fisk’s slower movements. As long as he observed and was aware, he could dodge them. But he never had the chance to test the full capabilities of Fisk’s iron skin. He could not be sure if the blade of his katana could even slice through his skin, or put a dent on it. The only way he can end this is he had a chance to get close enough and deliver a blow to him; A blade into his heart. Or any vital organ would do, but a blade to the heart would be a more dramatic way to end Wilson Fisk. Wade gets knocked over by Fisk when he gets distracted by his thoughts for a seconds and slams into a few barrels, causing its contents to spill carelessly onto the floor. He scrambles to get up and move before Fisk could slam into him and kill him.

It is almost hard to tell who would come out the victor, Fisk landing blow after blow, but Wade being quick enough to dodge those blows. Wade managing to make contact with Fisk’s skin with his blade, but only ever leaving a scratch and a small trickle of blood. In a turn of events, Fisk had drawn out his gun to fire which Wade had failed to consider and it scrapes past the skin of Wade’s arm, letting out a small ooze of blood. To which Wade disturbs a stck of barrels as one stacked on top tips over and spills its kerosene contents over onto Fisk, momentarily distracting.

It comes down to Fisk throwing Wade into a corner, Wade already feeling the aches of the bruises he is getting. The katana that Wade had failed to keep a hold of is picked up by Fisk and broken into two with a snap. “No where to go Wade!” Fisk bellows and approaches him, a lumbering giant hungry for his blood and broken bones. Wade in a panic, fumbles around his pocket for anything, regretting having not taken a taser of his own. But something small and sleek brushes against Wade’s finger and he immediately recognises the object in hand.

“Now perish, Deadpool.”

Wade carefully pulls the object out in hand, careful as to not alert Fisk.

“I told you. I abandoned that fucking name.”

In a blink of an eye, Wade pulls out a lighter, miraculously lighting it’s flame up in an instant and tosses it at Fisk. The clothing instantly catches on fire and it sends Fisk into a yelling rage, swatting his hand at the flames and trying to get it off and his gun, abadoned on the ground. Wade wastes no time in pulling out his pocket knife and picks himself up, circling behind him and launches himself at him carefully as to not let the flames lick his skin and with a final blow, sinks the blade into Fisk’s head.

Not the blow Wade was hoping to finish Fisk with, but it did the job.

The blood curdling scream echoes in the room and is only more painful when Wade pulls out the blade. Soon, the body collapses, Fisk’s body seizing as the flames cover his body, eating away at his clothing and at his skin. Wade could only watch as the body starts to still and soon, is dead, leaving the flames to consume him. Too bad Fisk could not get any words out of him before he died, but Wade did not cae. After one final glance at the man, he turns to leave, allowing the flames to spread.

 

When Wade leaves the building through the door, he notices the clouds rolling in, and soemthing white floating down from the sky. It soon attatches itself onto Wade’s clothing. It signaled to Wade the beginning of Winter; The first snow. Quickly, he makes his way to the meeting point, finding Gwen and MJ waiting outside of a van, it’s motor rumblinga and it’s headlights on.

“Where’s Peter?” Wade’s first thought was if Peter was alright. MJ guides him to the back of the van. Inside layed Peter, a thin jacket belonging to Gwen layed over him. “Get in and let’s go,” MJ orders, running back to the front seat of the car to drive. Wade quickly hops in to the back of the van and sit next to Peter, noting that his breathing was haggered. In addition to that, his lips were awfully dry. Wade feels the van jerk in movement but he focuses his attention on Peter, shaking him awake. “Peter, wake up,” Wade urges softly and breathes a sigh of relief when Peter cracks his eyes open, although looking much weaker. Wade quickly retrieves the canister in his bag and props Peter up, pouring a generous amount of water into the cap of the canister. “Sorry baby boy, but you gotta drink. Then you can sleep all you want alright?” Peter lets out a small noise, so Wade takes it as an okay sign. Carefully, Wade tips the cap over Peter’s lips, some of the liquid spilling over, but nevertheless, quenched Peter’s thirst. “Where…” Peter begins after sipping the last of the water, trying to form a sentence. But Wade interrupts him, knowing full well what he is asking. “We’re in a van, away from that fucking place. Don’t worry. He won’t come for you ever again.” Peter falls into a short silence, processing Wade’s answer and gives a mumbled thanks.

Wade’s shoulders relax when it finally sinks into him that Peter is okay and smiles. “Sleep, Baby boy. You need it.” Peter lets his head rest on Wade’s lap and closes his eyes, exhuastion hitting him as he falls into a deep sleep. Wade’s finger drifts over Peter’s bed of hair and pets it in a soothing manner, blushing a bit at the subconcious action despite he himself knowingly flirting with Peter for a long time, but this was different. Whatever, he had time to think over it when they are safe and far from reach. Looking up and peering outside of the window, he sees the building, smoking and the fire reaching it’s windows and the snow falling. In his mind, something spelt out ‘déjà vu’.

It was finally over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up to any fanfic writers out there. If you don't know, I'm also an artist! And I have recently opened up a commission for Fanfic art. If you're insterested in having a promotional banner or art for your fic or a simple scene for your fic, you can find out more and commission me here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17873435  
> Or you can just go to my profile and find it under MArvel A03 Art Comissions. Support would be wonderful :)


	10. Bring Back A Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: It happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I've been out this long. And admittedly, I've done this plenty of times with previous fics I did back in the dark days of wattpad. I'm real sorry it took a long time to produce this chapter, and I'm honestly surprised that this ended up with a 3k word count. I had to make a tough decision about how this chapter was gonna play out and I think I love how this one turned out. (And lo and behold, just when I got my inspiration, the fevers came) so do enjoy this chapter. I love this one very much.
> 
> (Edited) I forgot to add this and only remembering it now, silly me. THANKS FOR 1K READS!!! Kudos to ya'll!

 2 December, 20X7, 8:21pm

_Winter_

 

“God, I told you Wade, I’m fine.”

Wade is sitting next to Peter like a puppy dog and holding up his flask towards Peter, insistent on him drinking water despite having already done so for the past six times Wade has told him to throughout the day. “You can never be too sure. And eight glasses of water day’ll keep the zombies away!” Wade hums. Peter lets out an amused laugh, “I’ve had 6 flasks of water!” He sits up from his makeshift bed and takes the flask anyway, drinking half of it and hands it back to Wade who is contempt with it. “But seriously Wade, I’m fine. I can walk and everything and my ribs only hurt a bit. Pass me my web shooters please.” Wade picks up the pair of web shooters placed conveniently on the table beside them and passes them to Peter. “I know, I just….You scared me back then.” Peter sighs quietly to himself and begins his work, tinkering away at the devices in hand, “Yeah…sorry ‘bout that.”

Peter was really sorry though, even if he couldn’t help or prevent what happened that day.

Wade had told him after he woke up from what seemed like a long slumber. Wade had killed Fisk, much to Peter’s albeit dismay of his own moral code, but after everything that man did to him as far as he can remember, it did not really take him long to get over it. When they got Peter to the hideout however, he was barely breathing, both from internal bleeding and exhuastion. Wade had best described it to be the “most terrifying experience since that one time a dog’s head blew up in front of him” and he got to work patching Peter up, and after a grueling two hours of trying to not let Peter bleed out or killing him, it miraculously left only a few stitches from his chest to his arms and a lot of bandages wrapped over him when it was done. Peter had apparantly been in a coma for a week or more before he woke up, and even with all the stitching and fixer-upper, it still hurt like a bitch. Now, it only was ever a small numbing pain to him. That he could handle.

Honestly, Peter’s memories of what they did to him were mostly blurry, only ever remembering the pangs of hunger and thirst he had and some of the minor ‘conversations’ he and Fisk shared. But other than that, he was glad they were all but forgotten, fuzzy. He did not want to remember all of that anytime soon.

Carefully, Peter screwed the tiny nut in its proper place and heard the tell-tale click. He aimed at a chipped, dusty vase and fired a string of web, landing on its porcelain structure and pulling it back, shattering the vase in pieces as it fell to the floor. “Should’ve probably thought that through,” Peter mutters but Wade smiles and shakes his head, getting up, “I got it, can’t believe you fixed that from the random scrap we just shoved at you.” Wade walks over to the broken shards and kicks its contents out of the door, “Couldn’t you have done that earlier?” “Don’t think scarp like this can be found everywhere. You must’ve picked it up from a junkyard or something close by a lab or old mechanic store.” Peter unbuckles the web shooters and places it aside, not planning on using it until he can get up without feelings jabs of pain. He attempts to shuffle closer to the fireplace, but Wade stops him and bends down to pick him up along with the blanket drapped over him, “Let me.” Peter feels a red flush on his cheeks and awkwardly holds onto Wade, an arm wrapped over his shoulder.

During the month Peter had been resting under the care of Gwen, MJ and mostly, Wade, he had grown to be very much in love with Wade. What he had thought of back in Fisk’s Hideout was in fact, true to its words. He liked that Wade would constantly tell jokes with him when he was bored, and all the stories he managed to come up with that made Peter laugh in unbearable pain that always led up to wheezing and coughing. He did not think Wade would come back with a whole cart load of scraps and electronics one day when he had gone longer than usual and told him to fix those web shooters of his in place of entertainment when Peter got fidgety more often than not, but he did. And Peter was glad he thought of it and went out of his way to do these things. But it led to a much more awkward set of problems. Whenever Wade flirted with him, Peter would blush and try to laugh it off as best as he could without showing his knowingly beet red face to him. Whenever Wade would sleep with him during the colder nights, he would feel nervous and flustered, to which Wade felt concerned if he was too touchy and gave him space, leaving Peter absolutely deflated. Yet when he tried to speak up, to say that yes, it was alright that he slept with him, or to manage a “I love you” or even a “like”, it ended up with him fumbling his words, or coming up with another excuse. Peter internally cringes to that time Peter had spilled out that he needed to "do his business" in place of “I like you” and wishes that memory away (you can see him mentally dragging his face down with his hands).

Wade sets Peter down on the floor and gently wraps the blanket over Peter’s shoulders, taking the spot next to him. Peter takes a moment to look at Wade before moving the edge of the blanket to wrap over Wade as well. “You take care of yourself too, Wade,” Peter says. Wade lets out a smile and pushes himself against Peter’s side, “You can lean on my shoulder if you want.” It takes a bit of courage from Peter not to flush when he accepts the invitation and leans on his shoulder. He could not help but jerk a little when he feels a hand gently cup his waist and Wade lifts his hand away when he feels it, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have- I should’ve just asked.” Peter quickly interjects and places his hand over Wade’s, “It’s…fine. Just, surprised.”

“Oh,” Wade takes a little while to process what Peter had just said and gently places his hand back on Peter’s waist and Peter resumes resting his head on Wade’s shoulder. Peter lets the warmth from Wade envelop him and it feels nice.

This is nice.

“Hey lovebirds!” MJ calls out, disrupting the silence and Peter and Wade move their heads a bit to look at MJ and Gwen. Both Wade and Peter did not say anything about the ‘lovebird’ remark, though Peter did blush a bit. “Gwen and I are going out and watch the stars. Snow’s stopped and all and it’s a clear night. Might as well enjoy ourselves.” Peter cocks a brow and looks out of the window, noting that the sky is, indeed, clear and the stars have come out, all in thanks to the massive decline in light pollution since the apocalypse happened. After everything that had happened (and after all those times MJ and Gwen had to panic over him) Peter decides that they did deserve one night outside watching the stars. “Bring back a star for me will you?” Wade coos and it recieves laughter from both Gwen and Peter. “I might bring you one snowflake if my star finding expedition fails,” MJ replies with a chuckle and puts on her beanie, opening the door for  Gwen and soon exits after her.

Now its just Peter, Wade and the sound of the crackling fire in front of them.

Minutes of silence fills the room, to which all kinds of bells are ringing in Peter’s head. On one hand, he’s thinking, “Am I sweating too much? Is he comfortable?” and all kinds of ridiculous worries Peter is self aware of. And on the other, Peter thinks that this is it. This is the perfect time to say what he has to say. Only he knows that his previous attempts with his previous crushes would always go horribly, back when he was still in high school. So what is he going to say this time?

Peter does not have to worry about it when Wade clears his throat to speak, “You know, once we get you all healed up and get our stuff restocked and replenished, we can always head out anytime when the storms blow over.” Peter rolls his eyes and pinches Wade’s skin softly, letting out a scoff, “ ‘We’? I did all the healing myself!” Both of them let out a laugh, Peter knowing there were no hard feelings behind what he had said. “I’m just kidding. I’m still getting it over my head that I almost died,” Peter sighs a bit. “Almost? You had all three of us panicking worse off than when the apocalypse started,” Wade chuckles and looks at Peter, “Remember that time you vomitted in front of those zombies I killed? I didn’t think you were that sensitive to a couple of unalive corpses. So I’m honestly not surprised after sitting through all that.” Peter’s smiles slowly shifts down, remembering that very first day they met.

Peter would note that after that fateful encounter and act Wade pulled, Wade never did pull off a stunt like that in front of Peter. Sure he would see the occassional murder of a zombie, but it did not affect him as much as that did. And he knows why.

“I don’t vomit at corpses you know. It was…for another reason,” Peter says softly, unsure of what he wants to share. Peter shifts in his position, settling comfortably for a long talk. “I just…don’t talk about it because it really changed me. As a person. And it really hurt me.” Wade looks at him, a face Peter could not seem to discern. Maybe curiosity. But he was listening. “I was just a regular, teenage boy when all this happened. I thought I would graduate like any other kid, get a degree, get a good job and help others. Then…. I got into this stupid fight with my Aunt and Uncle the day it happened,” Peter remembers every hurtful word he said to his Uncle in anger and he remembers the look on his face. He wished he could take all that back, “Can you believe I fought with my Uncle about me wrestling? It was a stupid plan on my part. I was one hell of a scrawny kid. But yeah, my grades were slipping ever since I tried helping my Aunt and Uncle with money doing the whole shady business, and they found out. I said some…stupid things, and I ran away.”

“Then about an hour of me being out, those sirens start. And I thought it was just a fake siren. But when I saw the planes coming in and the explosions, I got scared.”

Peter hears his voice crack when he says that last word, but continues nevertheless, “When I found my Aunt, and then my Uncle, I thought we’d go together and meet her at the border, I thought we were going to be alright,”

Another long breathe in, and out

 “And then he got bit. By man I could have helped. If I had just stopped obssessing over myself and my selfishness and just…helped him, he wouldn’t have turned- and bit my Uncle. I remember blood. A lot of it. I killed them all, and I just felt…Angry, shocked….fear. I remember-” Peter takes another breath and feels a cold tear run down his cheek and he quickly raises a hand to wipe it away, trying to not let mucus run, “- My Uncle. He gave me his gun and he told me he loved me. And I don’t know if there could’ve been any other way or- I just-…I shot him.” Peter lets the last sentence leave his mouth with a shaky breath and rubs more of his tears away, “I remember everything, no matter how hard I try to forget it, and it makes me sick.” Peter lets out a sigh, he has been doing that a lot, “7 years, you know. I just, I feel fucking angry at myself. No matter how many times I replay that in my head, I think about how if I had done something more, what I did wouldn’t have happened. And he’d still be here.” Peter sits himself up from him resting on Wade’s shoulder and uses rubs his face with both hands. “I don’t know what to tell May when I see her… Or if I ever see her again. And honestly, I’m still scared. I don’t know what’s going to happen to all of us. I was almost going to die.”

“I just want this to be over….. I just want to find Aunt May.”

 

Peter keeps wiping the tears away and lets out one ugly sniffle, gasping a little to breathe through his mouth from all that snot, “S-sorry, God you shouldn’t have to see this-” “Hey- no no, it’s fine,” Wade turns his body to face Peter and hugs him fiercely, as if trying to keep Peter from melting any farther, “You’ve been through a lot. It’s fine.” Wade says it with more affirmation and Peter leans into it. Both because of how he is too weak of a sobbing mess to hug him back or do something and because it feels nice. It reminds him of Aunt May’s hugs (no, not in a weird way), it felt familiar.

Another minute goes by and Wade chooses that of all moments to break the silence, “This is fine right? I don’t know what to do in situations like….this.” Peter lets out a laugh, though filled with tears, “It’s fine…. Reminds me of my Aunt, not in a weird way.” Peter quickly adds. Wade in turn chuckles and rubs Peter’s back in a soothing way, “Right.”

Another silence fills the room, too many silences Peter thinks.

“I like you.”

The rubbing slowly comes to a stop and Peter feels the shift of Wade’s head and whole body.

Peter takes the silence from Wade as a reason to add on his own babbling, “I mean I like- ** _like_** you. Like love. Was that too sudden? I just. Thought it would be the perfect time and-”

“You like me?”

“…..I…like you. Ever since that Target trip. (That sounded much more stupid in my head) Maybe even before that. It took me a while to realize that I like you. And by a while I mean when I was in that Fisk Hideout. I had a lot of night times to think.”

Peter sits back up to get a proper look at Wade to assess the situation. Wade was only staring at him with that unreadable expression again. Peter admittedly is panicking internally that this is going to turn out like one of those stupid crush confessions like long ago. Wade parts his lips and speaks, “I like you too.” Peter’s heart leapt at those words, a very new feeling he is now learning, and it sinks when Wade adds a, “but”

“It’s just that… there are some things. Some things I’ve done and I’ve never told, and yeah, I want to tell you these things to. My past, and how it hurt me too. You’ve told me so much about you. And I want to do the same. But I don’t know if it will make things different for us.”

Peter honestly did not expect that, getting his feelings accepted and also the confession. But it does not take Peter long to think of a reply,

“I like you now. Emphasis on now. Like all those times you made those stupid jokes that made me laugh. I haven’t done that in a long time. I feel like myself when I’m with you. Not ‘Spiderman: civilian saving hero that’s silent’. Just me, and maybe I might just change my alter ego name to ‘Spiderman: civilian saving hero that occassionaly quips’.” That made Wade laugh, and Peter smiles, “I like that no matter what happened, you cared, and you were always there for me, as an ally and as a friend. Past or not, its as it is, the past. I like you now.”

 

Wade’s expression is much more readable now; Surprise. And happy eyes. He breaks into a smile and speaks, “Was that a wedding speech?” Peter blushes red and furrows his brows out of frustrated embarrassment, “Oh come on Wade!” Wade only stops Peter from adding on when he moves closer to Peter, locking his eyes with Peter’s. “Can I kiss you?”

Peter can see the small scars on the man’s face, some looking like it came from the claws of tiny creatures and others from blades, but his eyes keep wandering back to the brown of Wade’s eyes and he wonders how Wade can so easily ask that. With a breath, Peter lets out a soft, but audible, “Yes.”

Wade leans in and their lips meet. The first thing Peter notes about the kiss is that it’s rough, from the chapped lips of Wade, but soft with the way Wade kisses him, and it felt warm. Granted he did kiss people back in his teen years, but this was different. Maybe because it had been years. Or maybe because it was Wade. Peter’s heart was beating wildly, and his hands were unmoving acting as pillars for the body. Their lips move again, and again, and again. Still messy, but it felt special all the same. Peter could feel Wade wrapping a hand around Peter’s waist and a feeling of warmth rushed to that spot. Basically, magical.

They soon let each other go and pull away and their eyes lock again.

“So…?”

Peter silently lets out a breath he’s been holding it for quite some time during the kiss.

“You really need to brush your teeth.” Wade lets out an offended gasp and pinches Peter’s nose, “I’m sorry ammenities don’t come easy here!” They fall into the same laughter they’ve laughed when one told the other a joke, but this one is different. Everything is different. “I love you!” Wade barks out, albeit delirious, but so is Peter, who lets out an, “I love you too!” Peter throws himself over Wade and wraps his arms over him tightly, almost sobbing all over again, “Fuck, I was praying this wouldn’t turn out like my high school crush confessions long ago.” “And how did those go?” Wade asks with fake curiosity. “Whad’ya think?” Another sea of chuckles and short laughters come from Wade and Peter and they end up on the floor, side by side and the blanket sprawled over them.

“That was wild,” Peter whispers.

“I know,” Wade quips.

“You have tears and snot on your shirt.”

“I know.”  

“We’re gonna have to explain this to MJ and Gwen. And my Aunt. And your kid.”

“One thing at a time, Baby boy.”

 

Without looking at each other, Peter’s hand finds its way to Wade’s and holds onto it.

 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: Sufjan Stevens  
> [ If you head back to chapter 1, you'll find a neat artwork for this fic made by me ;) ]


	11. Deer Ellie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title totally spoils this chapter, but am not sorry :)
> 
> School started and who knew laptop delivery is shit? So here's Chapter 11! I might try my best in updating later chapters, and if they seem to be coming out late, don't worry, I plan on finishing this book no matter what.

16 December 20X7, 8:15 am

 

Wade stirs from his sleep at the disturbance of light on his face. He opens his eyes in hesitance and immediately the lights hit is eyes, though he should have known it would happen. It does not stop Wade from cursing as he squints his eyes. In an attempt to shield his eyes, he tries to raise his arm over his eyes, but something heavy prevents his hand from moving, and in turn is suffocating his poor hand. Wade does a lazy turn of his head to where his arm is pinned, and he is greeted with the sight of Peter, facing him and sleeping peacefully, excusing the light snoring. The sun gleams onto the brown of his hair and his features, and that makes Wade smile to himself.

 

God he loves Peter.

 

Careful not to disturb Peter from his sleep, he lightly brushes the bed hair away from his face and kisses his forehead gently. At least Peter would be spared from his cruel joke of a marker mustache, he looked too perfect for that… for now. Getting himself up, he attempts to tame his own bed hair in place and he approaches at the food stock, a man made box with tarp inside buried all the way ito the soil of a broken floor board to keep the food from going bad. Wade opens the lid and the contents come out empty. This meant that stock they had saved from a good few weeks ago was long gone into their stomachs, and that Wade had to go search for food. Unless they want to feed off the cans sitting on the rotting kitchen shelves, which Wade decides would be for the better if it was left untouched.

He takes his time to put on his winter get up, borrowing (stealing) Peter’s beanie conveniently sitting on the table and walks up to the couch, where Gwen and MJ lay asleep. Wade manages to wake Gwen up and she stirs, brows furrowed in annoyance at whomever dared wake her from her slumber. “Hey Gwen, I’m gonna head out and hunt for breakfast. Just a heads up,” Wade whispers as he jerks his thumb at the door. Gwen manages a grumble and a small swat of her hands at him, “Alright, just let me sleep….”

Maybe Gwen might be his next victim. But breakfast comes first. With a chuckle, Wade turns to leave, gathering a handmade bow and quiver of arrows sitting idly at the door.

-

Skidding down snow proves to be difficult with the pair of cheap snow boots Wade has done and he almost slips on his back. Yet he manages to regain his balance, and instead focuses on the sounds of the forest. He could try hunting down a large bird, but he was too tired for that. It would be a miracle and sheer luck if a deer showed up-

A distant call grabs the attention of Wade and he recognizes it to be the call of a deer.

Thank whichever God, for such a coincidence.

Wade waddles his way through the thick snow in search of the deer and sure enough, he spots a deer out in the open, grazing through the snow for any chance of grass. This deer could feed all four of them for three days and even more if they scrimp and save, and Wade was definitely going to take the chance. He flips his hood over his head for added measure and arms himself, with his bow and arrow, drawing back the string taut. And he shoots.

The butt of the arrow lands just centimeters away from the hoof of the deer and it startles her, yelping as she turns to gallop away. Wade curses at himself for the second time this morning and he raises to his feet, briskly taking off the catch the deer. And the good thing about snow was that it left very obvious hoof prints for Wade to follow, and he wastes no time to parkour over rocks and ducking underneath overgrown branches. Although, he had wished he did not need to exercise this much on a morning. Meanwhile, his mind wanders to Peter, like every other time when he is alone ever since that kiss. It was perfectly normal….at least Wade assumes.

A sudden cry echoes through the forest and a few birds fly away in a distance. Wade can only ever presume some punk gang was trying to take his kill and he picks up the speed, ducking behind a bunch of shrub. He peeps over and he finds the same deer, laying dead on the snow covered soil with an arrow sticking through the side of its body and blood oozing gruesomely. No one seems to be approaching as Wade could only observed through minimal peripheral vision behind leaves. Maybe if he snatched the deer and ran, he can take the deer and have a nice meal. An arrow through his head would be worth the deer stew.

Carefully, Wade stalks out from his hiding spot and towards the deer, eyes scanning his surroundings of trees and snow. Yet, he does not take into account any body above him and a arrow zips past in front of him, landing just in between him and the deer.

“What the-“

“Hands off my deer!”

Wade looks up to see a figure planted on a tree branch, their bow armed with an arrow and ready to shoot at anytime. He watches as the figure leaves their nest and lands on the soft snow, bow still raised at him. “Nice superhero landing and all pal, but that’s not going to convince me. I need that deer,” Wade scoffs. “And I need it too,” they reply, to which Wade recognizes it to be a female voice, “I know you gang scum love hoarding these animals for yourselves, so you best give it to me or I will kill you.”

Okay, maybe she might have impressed him with the superhero landing, but being compared to a gang scum? Tragic.

“Hey!!” Wade yells, offended, “Excuse you young miss, but I am not a ‘Gang Scum’. And that’s just rude!” He shoves the hood back and reveals his very frustrated expression, both arms shooting out in a gesture, “Does this look like the face a gang scum?? Now you should’ve seen Fisk, quite the pig guy, but you can’t now. Because he got outed.” Wade raises his bow at her and huffs, “So if you excuse me, I have four of us to share this deer with.”

He had expected the girl to fight back, but instead, she pauses, as if observing him. And she drops the bow.

“Deer got your tongue?” Wade taunts.

“Oh my god,” She whispers and she stands still, unsure of what to do or say, “Oh my god oh my god oh my god…” Wade cocks a brow, thinking that maybe she might be having an internal malfunction, “Did deer really get your tongue?” She instead cuts him off with a choked back laugh, “OH MY GOD!” Quickly, she pulls her hood back, revealing long curls of brown hair that flowed gracefully. And before she could remove the snow goggles and mask covering her face, Wade has put two and two together. “It’s me, you Doofus!!” And her smile had never changed nor had it been forgotten after all these years.”

“Ellie?”

-

Peter cranes his neck to the side and stretches, glad to finally be able to stretch his own body after weeks of healing. He dresses himself up in a heavy sweater and thick pants. Along with his winter boots and wanders out, sitting at the broken porch as he looks on. It was rather odd for Wade to have not returned within an hour or two. Curse him for stealing their only beanie, as he could feel the coldness running through his ears. Maybe he found something worth the long search and it was taking longer for him to come back. Maybe a deer? That would be a huge coincidence and luck. Longer days ever since that kiss had made him crave more from Wade, as cheesy as it sounds like it was coming from a fan fiction.

“Peter? Get your ass back in here! Wade can take care of his own ass!” MJ calls out and it earns a chuckles out of Peter. “Why’d you assume I was waiting for Wade? Maybe I saw a really neat bird!” Peter quips and he stands, ready to enter.

A call draws his attention, only after the second one for Peter to confirm that it was indeed someone calling for him. He turns his body to see Wade, an animal draped over his body as he waves at him. “Peter!!” Wade calls out, this time much more clearer in Peter’s ears. Peter smiles and laughs, proceeding to walk up to Wade. But he stops in his tracks when another unknown person walks beside him, younger in youth and a set of brown hair the flew in the wind.

“I found my baby girl!!” Wade calls out with joy. And Peter connects two and two together.

“HOLY SHIT-“ Peter yells and he sweeps a hand through his hair, both confused and yet happy, for Wade, “YOU MEAN ELLIE- OH MY GOD-“ And he laughs, for Wade and his joy. “THAT’S AMAZING!!”

 

Wade smiles with a giddy expression and nudges Ellie’s shoulders. “And that’s the man I’m dating, hope you don’t mind…” Wade whispers, looking at Ellie with a hopeful expression. Ellie only laughs and gives Wade a sly look, “If I get two dads out of this, that will be a bonus.” Wade chuckles and ruffles Ellie’s hair. “Missed ya bugaboo.” Ellie returns a smalls smile, this time much more softer in emotion and she stares at the snow, “Missed ya too, Old Man.”


	12. Past Is The Past

16 December 20X7, 10:28am

 

Watching Ellie chugging down mouthfuls of deer stew was quite the sight to behold for Peter, which begs to question as to whether she had been starving for long or just very invested in the taste. Deer was rare to get afterall. His eyes dart to Wade, who was sitting beside Ellie and just smiling, content to have his daughter by his side once again, even with much time lost. “God…you have no idea….I was just living off old beans and it was getting horrible. This is so good!” Ellie comments between mouthfuls of soup. “Too bad you didn’t choke on the soup, it’d be hilarious,” Wade jokes and it earns him a sharp nudge in the shoulder from Ellie. “Too bad you didn’t die trying to survive this fucking hellhole,” Ellie retorts and she sets the now empty bowl on the floor.

 

“So. Now that you’ve got your glorious meal made by yours truly, tell me how you ended up here,” Wade says, leaning forward with a more inquisitive look. Ellie takes her time wiping her mouth of any stain with the sleeve of her turtleneck sweater and she gets comfortable. “Well,” Ellie begins.

 

“Remember the apocalypse starting and everything? Yeah, massive explosions, alarms, all that shit. I think Milly went out at that time. I stayed in the house and waited for you at that time because you always told me never to leave the house when something bad happens outside. And now looking back at it, that was terrible advice. Terrible. Absolutely shit.”

 

“Okay I get it, just continue,” Wade scoffs and flicks at her head, lightly.

 

“Okay, so I waited and then I hear the door open. I thought it was you, but it was Milly. I thought she came back to get me, so I ran downstairs. But Milly turned,”  


“She looked so…dead. Not even decomposing yet. Just her eyes. And she looked at me and suddenly she jumped me. Of course, if I learnt anything from you, I did a Heimlich Maneuver on her and stabbed her with my secret pocket scissors.”

 

“God what were you teaching her?” Peter suddenly asks and looks at Wade with a kind of confused look. Wade raises both hands and acts innocent, “Hey, first thing you teach a child, murder anyone that tries to murder you. And I was pretty proud when she learnt the Heimlich Maneuver.” Gwen nods in agreement and MJ adds an, “I agree.” Wade flashes a proud grin and it makes Peter roll his eyes, although unable to stop a smile himself. “Sorry, go on Ellie,” Peter apologizes.

 

Ellie takes no offence in the interruption and smiles, continuing her story, “She died, of course. Though I felt bad. But I knew I wasn’t safe. So I sort of ran. I didn’t have time to leave anything telling you were I would be headed. I didn’t even know where I was going! I just sort of…ran, fought, survive. You know. I managed to get out of the city and I tried asking for a ride to anywhere safe. But they all refused or just ignored me. They were too scared to get hindered and get eaten. So I followed where all the cars were going and I figured out it was where people were going to get us out. Ships maybe. But I was too late. All the ships left. Too afraid that if they stayed long enough, infected might enter the ships. So I wandered, trying to find somewhere to stay put so you could find me. But they were either guarded by gangs, or the infected manage to find me.”

 

“Fortunately, a small peaceful group of survivors were camping out in an abandoned farm and they made shelter there. They allowed me to stay provided I help around. And it had been like that for a good 3…no 4 years? And then some nut job called Fisk fucking eradicated our base.”

 

“Oh…” Peter lets out softly. “Yeah,” Ellie adds, a forlorn look on her face, “It was nice, having a small family and all that. But they were all dead. And I couldn’t save them. I managed to escape and I’ve gone solo ever since. ‘Till I found you Dad.”

 

Ellie quickly rubs her eyes and sighs, “Sorry it took you so long to find me. Things happened…And I missed you. A lot.” Wade frowns and wastes no time pulling his daughter close to him for a hug, patting her back soothingly, “No, you have nothing to say sorry for Ellie-Bellie. You did the right thing, going out and trying to find help. People are just shit. And none of that was in anyway your fault. I’m just glad, hella glad you’re right here. So don’t ever leave my side from here on out or I will haunt you when I die.” Ellie lets out a chorkle and Wade smiles at it. “You’d suck at it,” Ellie taunts and Wade ruffles her hair, “Punk.” MJ and Gwen decides to let the father and daughter spend some time alone and stands, taking the empty bowl with them and leaving the room and Wade, Ellie and Peter alone.

 

Peter watches the banter between father and daughter and it makes him smile as well, happy to see the two of them reunite and for them to so easily tease and hug each other as if seven years of seperation did not happen. And yet, his smile had a hint of nostalgia. It reminds him of the times he and his Uncle shared laughs and hugs when he was a kid. He still missed it, and forever will even if he grew old. And his mind wanders to his Aunt May, how she’d tease him so easily over high school crushes he had accidentally revealed to and of the times he and Uncle Ben messed up doing something. And he wandered if she was still out there, alive and well and looking for him like he was for her. Truthfully, watching Wade and Ellie reunite and talking with such familiarity in front of him while his Aunt was still out there was making him jealous, and it was hard to admit that to himself. It might have been showing on his face though because Wade was suddenly kneeling in front of him and had a hand on his.

 

“You alright Peter?” Wade asks. Peter sighs and spills, “Yeah, I’m just- Don’t get me wrong I’m happy for you and everything. I mean I so glad to finally meet Ellie! And she’s amazing and this is amazing and- ” “Is it about May?” Wade interrupts with a soft question. Peter looks at Wade with a twinge of guilt and sucks in a small breath of air, “Yeah….” Wade gives Peter a reassuring smile and rubs a soothing hand over his shoulder, “We’ll find her, don’t worry. I know we will. And I get that me finding Ellie… or the opposite of that actually… is unfair-” “No! It’s not! I’m genuinely happy for the two of you! I’m just….I miss Aunt May,” Peter admits and lets out another troubled sigh.

 

“We’ll find your Aunt,” Ellie adds and she stands up, arms crossed as if coolly determined, “because now, you have me. And I’d love to meet her.” That admittedly made Peter feel a little better and more assured. He found the kid to be just like Wade, confident, charming and full of pride, so he could see why he was starting to warm up to her easily. “So chin up, Dad.”

 

That made Peter cough out in mixed surprise and confusion and Wade to also sputter in surprise. “What? Too soon?” Ellie suggests and she grins. “Ellie, as much as I love that you just easily called Peter that and being sweet about it, we literally just dated weeks ago,” Wade complains, “too soon.” Peter widens his eyes at Ellie and adds, “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.” Ellie only smiles wider and with a mocked voice, quotes, “Yet.”

 

-

 

The night is quiet and it is just how Peter likes it. Quietly seated at the fireplace, he tampers with his web shooters yet again to see if any upgrades could be made, even with the given short supply of materials. Yet in the silence, he listens to the sound of laughter ringing in the other room from Wade and Ellie, and it feels nice. Although the whole “Dad” thing came to Peter as a shock, he still liked the kid. It made him consider the future. He, Wade and Ellie, and maybe Aunt May. Definitely Aunt May. It made him hopeful. And that was what he needed.

 

He hears the sound of the door open and shut with a slam and Wade protesting. He turns to see Wade walking away from the door, defeated and both their eyes meet. Peter smiles and inquires, “She kicked you out?” Wade huffs and replies, “She got sick and tired of me literally never leaving her side for the whole day. So she kicked me out and decided to have lady’s night with Gwen and MJ.” Peter chuckles and hums, “Sounds fun.” Wade shoves his hands into the broken pockets of his sweatpants and cocks his head at the empty spot beside Peter, “Is that seat taken?” Peter only gestures at the free spot and Wade takes it as an invitation, joining his partner on the floor and lays down while Peter remains seated.

 

“You know,” Wade sighs, “I still can’t get over how big she’s grown.” Peter nods slightly and adds, “It’s what happens when girls grow Wade.” Wade only chuckles and nudges Peter, “You know what I mean. I’m just sorry that I missed out on seven years of Ellie blooming into a bad ass lady like her daddy is.” “Does that mean you’re proud of her,” Peter asks. “Yeah,” Wade smiles, “I really am.” Wade turns to face Peter, looking up at the man. “Hey, Petey, listen,” Wade speaks and it gets the full attention of Peter, turning his head to look at Wade, “Remember that time when I said something along the lines of I want to tell you things about myself as well?” Peter nods and Wade continues, “Well, I think now’d be a good time to tell you bout Ellie. And stuff I did that made her happen.”

 

Peter furrows his brows and places the web shooters in front of him. “You don’t have to tell me,” Peter insists. “But I want to,” Wade replies, holding Peter’s hand and stroking it with his thumb in smooth circles. When Peter says nothing else, Wade begins his story.

 

“I grew up in a pretty shitty household. The whole package deal really; Abusive dad, a mum that didn’t fucking care. And getting locked in washing machines or small pantries. It sucked balls. I decided that if I were to get a life as stable as it can get and do something that can get me fed, I’d join the military, so that’s what I did. I served and I left, just as easily. And so with my special skill set and being quite the soldier in my time in the army, I settled into the life of a mercenary.”

 

“It was pretty good to be honest. I got paid a lot, I killed people that were warlords and scumbags. And I was pretty good at my job. I did my work 24/7, so much so it became so mundane. But it fed me, so I kept going. Life was going as great as it could be, and then I met this lady during a mission. I sort of bantered with her and then one thing led to another- It’s so weird telling this to you. And I left her, just like that. And I really regretted that. I was just a complete asshole at that time and I hated that. Made me hate myself more when I realized that.”

 

“A good three years past by and not once have I heard from that gal even though I left her my phone number from when I met her. And suddenly she rings me up and its not her. It’s social services.”

 

“Apprantly, she died. Committed suicide two days before that call and I didn’t even know. No note left behind, nothing. Only her overdue rented apartment and a kid. Our kid. Just turning two years old. I was the only person she had contacts of. No family or friends and they verified that I was the father. I went to that house and then I saw her. Just this small kid who’s sitting on a small chair and she looked at me as if she knew me. As if I knew her. Part of me wanted to just leave her to social services. I didn’t want this small kid mixed up with my life. I really didn’t. But then I got worried. What if social services took her away and then put her in some shitty family? Just like mine? And I won’t be able to do anything. I wanted to give her a home. A home where she could be loved. And I wanted to make sure I did something right for once. So I signed some legal papers and she started living with me.”

 

“We had a good three-five years together. I watched her grow and learn how to tie her shoelaces in a perfect little bow and she was so much like me. Not the murder part, god no. She turned out smart and witty. Pretty too, but it was mostly from her mum. And I wanted to do right by her. So I sort of stopped taking up mercenary offers. And I started looking for other options. I considered opening a Mexican restaurant, but I think I would’ve done it dirty. But then the whole ‘pocalypse happened and- you know the rest.”

 

Peter was sitting silently and quietly processing everything. So Wade took this opportunity to sit up and kiss his cheek, not so fast that it would startle him. “Thanks…for listening.” Peter grips his hand a little tighter over Wade’s and looks at Wade with earnest eyes, “Thanks for telling me.” Peter pulls Wade into a hug, though it surprises Wade a little but Wade accepts it and warps his arms around Peter. “I really hope you like Ellie. I really want you to be part of our family,” Wade says, shifting his head to rest in the crook of Peter’s neck. “I already like her. She’s amazing,” Peter assures as he leans into the warmth of Wade. “Wait till you experience her choke hold when you take her shit, it’s nasty,” Wade warns and Peter laughs, “I think that’s just you.”

 

A small silence follows and Peter speaks up, “I don’t know if me saying this is going to help with anything or not, but your past. Everything you did before. I couldn’t care any less. You changed and you changed for the better. I like you now and I’m not planning on leaving you and your dumb ass. So don’t ever think I will ever change my mind about you because of your past.” Peter waits for a reply and Wade offers a small thanks and he is content with it.

 

“…. You fell for my dumb ass?”

 

“That and so many other things.”

 

“That is so romantic.”


	13. Bunker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, It's been so long!! I can't believe I left this for a month...
> 
> So sorry for the wait guys! But between creating more fics and stories because idiot me wants to crank out more stories and also with school and projects, I gotta handle stuff out. But I should be able to write again for the fic. Unfortunately, whether I keep to a one week shedule update or not may not be consistent, but yes, I'm definitely finishing this fic!! For now, please enjoy this chapter, thank you!!

2 February 20X8, 1:23pm

 

Winter passes by in the blink of an eye, however slow it may have seemed to Peter and the team being shut in within their homey shelter through most of the storms. Not that Peter would complain, he had enough time during those storms to rest and properly heal. By the time February rolled around, Peter could do all the stunts and stretches he could do before their encounter with Kingpin. Well ahead of their original estimate on how long winter would last and how long it would take Peter to get back on his own two feet, they decide to embark on their quest once again, snow boots and coat on the ready as they tread through melting snow. This time, on a quest to find Aunt May, along with their new addition to the team.

 

It was ironic to see life springing back from the soils beneath their feet given how just around a few years ago (If Peter could remember just how long everything had passed) it was once burning and in a full hellscape. But admittedly, a few good things came out of the apocalypse. Like clear fresh air lacking in pollutants that would normally be produced by Oscorp’s once running factories. And the new vegetation overtaking the concrete of falling buildings, giving the world new landscape. And with it, a few new surprises.

 

“Guys guys!! Quick come here!!” Ellie calls with urgency as she peeks over a brick wall separating the small abandoned neighborhood and a thick meadow. Peter shuffles quietly and peeks over as well, Wade shimmying his way in between and pressing against Peter’s face to also get a good look. “What’s up Captain?” Wade asks. “It’s a whole herd of giraffes! Can’t you see them?” Ellie frowns and points at tall figures grazing the field. MJ and Gwen climb onto a tree leading over the wall and land on the other side, taking one good look at the long-necked creatures as they pass by. “I think they came from one of the zoos nearby. Must’ve been let loose or something,” MJ chimes. “And I’m saving this for the scrapbook!” Wade grins as he pulls out a disposable camera, snapping a shot at the giraffes. Trust Wade to pick up these kinds of things at your local junkyard. “I’m sorry but what’s this scrapbook you’re talking about?” Peter chuckles as he climbs over the wall, landing perfectly and waits for Ellie and Wade to climb over, “Please tell me it’s not another thing you found on our trip…” While Ellie makes a perfect climb over the wall, Wade instead lands flat on his face unceremoniously in an attempt to flip over the wall, earning a hearty laugh from Ellie as Peter helps him up. “I promise you, it’s from somewhere cleaner!” Wade remarks as he straightens his back. “Trust me, you can’t convince him to leave it,” Ellie whispers to Peter, loud enough for Wade to hear and give an unamused ‘Hey!’. Peter laughs and rolls his eyes, “I know that all too well!”

 

Weeks being snowed in also gave time for Peter and Ellie to know each other. Ellie was much like her father, except she had smaller impulses. But anyone could see that she was definitely Wade’s daughter. While Peter shared a few things on his web shooters and his mini inventions Ellie would ask, Ellie shared with Peter how to use a bow, to which Peter for lack of a better word, was horrible at. Just because he was ‘Spiderman’ doesn’t make him a better marksmen. But that got along fine, much to Wade’s surprise. As Wade quoted, ‘Not many meet her expectations, typical princess.’

 

They continue to admire the moving heard of giraffes. For a zombie apocalypse, this was something nice to be greeted to. Except Peter does not see where he’s going. That and the tall grass hinders their ability to notice what’s on the ground, and Peter feels something hard hit against his foot, effectively tripping him and causing him to fall to the ground. “I knew I wasn’t the only one cursed to such a cruel existence,” Wade says jokingly, a reference to how he falls on his face. Peter resists the urge to roll his eyes as he attempts to get up, helped up by Ellie. Peter looks back at where he tripped and behind the tall blades of grass and tiny chamomile weeds, something made of metal pokes out of the lump of melting snow.

 

“Creepy sinister vibe I’m sensing,” Gwen notes as she joins in the circle. “Stand back guys, I got this,” MJ calls out, walking in with a large and bushy branch and they part to the side for MJ, who proceeds to brush away the snow with the branch. The snow clears and it reveals a metal door, circular in shape with resemblance to those doors Peter has seen in those sci-fi movies he used to watch. “We hit a jackpot! It’s a bunker!” Wade exclaims in excitement as he bends down to turn the handles of the door open. “You sure it’s safe?” Ellie remarks with a bit of unease. The lid creaks open with an obnoxiously loud squeal, revealing a ladder leading own to a dark chasm. “Bunkers have good stuff! Weapons, supplies, heck if we’re lucky enough, we could get armor! Though I wonder if that would be effective…” Wade ponders, but he decides instead of shrug it off and proceeds to climb down the vault, “Last one down gets the bad shit!!” Peter sighs and looks at the girls with a look before deciding that he’d follow Wade down the rabbit hole. What was the worse that could happen?

 

 

It was oddly dark and creepy down in the vault, the only source of light being their flashlights and the sound of their footsteps echoing loudly through the tunnels of the vault. “This is even creepier than that time you and I went into that spooky warehouse…remember that?” Ellie whispers as if it was the rule, quickly catching up to Wade’s side. “Of course, there was a nasty snake in there,” Wade mused and turned his flashlight to meet a split path. “I think I’ll go to that one with MJ and Ellie, if you don’t mind,” Gwen says. “Well, smell ya later pops,” Ellie jokes and turns to join MJ and Gwen, giving Wade a thumbs up, “If anything happens, I’ll holler, don’t worry!” Wade smiles and waves at the team, “Yeah you do that. We’ll meet each other that the top of the vault. Remember, it’s left, left, right and then left!” And with that, they go their separate ways.

 

“I think she only did that to give us some alone time, Petey,” Wade snickers and it earns him a soft punch to the shoulders and an amused laugh from Peter. “I’ll never put it past her,” Peter replies curtly and walks on, shining his torch on a sign with an arrow directing them forward to a ‘bunker’. “So what are you looking for?” Peter asks. Wade only shrugs as they stop at a door, seemingly locked, “Good stuff, weapons, grenades would be cool. Stand back Hon,” Peter takes the cue and moves a few steps back while Wade draws his sword and hacks the lock apart, pushing the door open with ease, “after you Petey Pie.” Peter accepts and struts in, looking to see levels of rooms encased behind metal doors, all but empty and without life. “This must’ve been around for a long time. Would take quite a lot of time to build a bunker this big…” Wade comments, looking at a handmade map hung up on the wall. “Maybe we can find something in those rooms?” Peter asks, slowly making his way down to the first room. “Then you take left, I take right!” Wade suggests and without Peter’s acknowledgement, he turns to prance off, knocking the first door he lays his hands on out of courtesy to whatever ghost still lives in it. Typical.

 

Most of the rooms Peter encounters and rummages through have all but been abandoned. Only things like pictures, toys, and abandoned bags served as evidence that these rooms once housed survivors, many of which were families. What made Peter’s stomach turn in nervousness was that some of the rooms had dead zombie carcasses strewn on its floors and skeleton remains, buried under maggots and flies. Those rooms Peter dared not venture farther in and instead opted to close the door to keep their smells in. He hopes those families he had seen in the photos managed to escape.

 

Peter stops to look at a particular door at the end of the second level, a bloody handprint marking its metal door. Peter tries not to think about how unfortunate they might’ve been and just prays that this room might at least have something good besides expired goods. Peter pushes the door open and he is greeted with the musky smell of old blood, something he got used to after going into ten other rooms similar to that, and he notices two dead carcasses on the floor, one evidently what used to be a zombie, and the other already down to the bone and creepily enough, fungi growing on it. Peter fought a shudder and looked around the room, seeing only what seemed to be expired food again, and a few articles of clothing, collecting dust. “I guess there’s nothing…again,” Peter sighs, turning to leave. But at the corner of his eye, something fluttering on a table catches his attention

 

It was weird to see a small piece of paper fluttering ever so subtly like that. While there were vents in the room and around the rooms as he had observed, barely little wind came in, only cold stale air. So to see it move like that as if wind was blowing on it was unusual, as if eerily calling to him.

 

Peter quietly approaches the small piece of paper, to what looks like an old photo paper wedged under an expired wrapped up oat bar. Slowly, he plucks the photo off from its oat bar captor, observing how it was yellow, as if it belonged in the early 80’s.  


Peter flips the photo right side up, and it takes a while for Peter to process the people in the picture.

 

While it’s safe to say Peter has not lived long enough to know how Aunt May and Uncle Ben looked like, pictures Aunt Amy would always show to Young Peter proved to be helpful. And this one served as an instant snap of recognition for Peter.

 

The man and lady in the yellowed photo had neither wrinkles, nor age old wisdom in their eyes, only young love as they look at each other in mischief and amusement. But Peter had remembered the photo, and he knew who carried it with her always. It takes a while for him to process that yes, this means that Aunt May was here. And that she was here years ago. But this leads him into much more wilder thoughts when he remembers the carcasses in the room.

 

Peter whips his head to see the skeleton of what was once human. Granted he lacked any knowledge in human biology, aiming his passion more towards engineering, but it does not stop Peter from thinking. “No-no no no no no-“ Peter stutters as he looks back at the photo, and then back at the corpse. The more he looks back and forth, he begins to note much more disturbing things about their details. The light stains of dried blood on the worn photo. The still present rotting of flesh attached to the bones of the corpse. That hand stained door as if someone had attempted to hide in the room. It’s not Aunt May. It’s not her. It can’t be, it shouldn’t be. She’s not-

 

“Peter!!”

 

It snaps Peter back to reality for a second, until something grabs Peter by the arm, pulling him out of a trance. He turns to see that its just Wade, brows furrowed and urgent. “Peter we have to go now,” Wade urges and he quickly drags Peter out.

 

Peter still can’t fully comprehend anything, only staring at the smudge of red, bloody handprint on the door as they leave, photo in his hand and something threatening to escape his stomach.


	14. In And Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally...after all these..*Looks at calendar*....months.

_2 February 20X8, 2:56pm_

 

In…

 

…Out

 

In…

 

…Out

 

Is what Peter is telling himself to do with his chest but it is doing the complete opposite of what he is telling it to do. Psychologists and possibly Science (Though Peter is unsure whether it was true or not, it was not his department) have proven that this method was usually effective in calming someone down and keeping that focus. Usually.

 

Now he is very much out of focus. He can hear Wade’s voice. Wade’s voice was still audible, but it sounds more like when a stranger walks past by you chatting about something unimportant. Its there and its gone, never going through your head. Yeah, just like that. And his breathing is haggard, incoherent, nothing like calm. He can’t keep calm.

 

In…

 

…Out

 

In…

 

A gritty hand grabs Peter by the leg and snaps him out of whatever he was in, screeching hungrily and in a vile way. Peter never noticed that about zombies before, and the way the flesh melted or the hollow eye sockets that lead to the other end of the inside of its head and the way their hands feel absolutely wrong on your skin. Like its not supposed to be there.

 

Oh God he feels sick.

 

Wade kicks the zombie away and fires a shot at it, and they both leave just as quick (more of Wade towing Peter with him, Peter couldn’t quite yet process what just happened or had happened). The sound of clicking and screaming becomes much louder, like droves of zombies are marching in, and soon, Peter is able to register Wade’s voice. “Peter?? Come on, we have to move!! Use the damn gun!!”, Wade yells. The weight in Peter’s hand suddenly becomes heavy, and it was only then that Peter realized that he had been given a gun. Peter could not register the action or the meaning behind that action, but he recognized the urgency: Shoot zombies. And so he shoots, although they are far less accurate than he usually would be, but he really was not shaping up to it.

 

Like any good badass would, Wade kicks down every door that stands in their way. Somewhere around the last few doors, Wade takes the extra effort to barricade the door with abandoned crates of rotting something and loose ammunition that would serve them no purpose. The door rattles and bangs in aggression and the desperation of zombies scream on the other side. Peter grips the gun even tighter, but the photo in his other never so much as wrinkles. “Peter, I know this is not a great time now, but my boyfriend senses are tingling, what’s wrong.” Wade asks, more of urged, serious despite the sprinkled joke. Peter only stares. His hand moves and he shows the photo. He does not need to say anything. Wade knows. Peter knows. “Shit…” Wade breathes, and he looks everywhere but Peter. Peter doesn’t blame him, it’s not like there was a “what to do if your boyfriend’s Aunt who he’s been looking for for 7 years is dead and now has no family” in a How To Be A Boyfriend Manual. But Peter really wishes Wade would say something or look at him. He needed something to focus on and scratching metal was not that.

 

The metal of the door bends in an ungodly way as it produces an abnormal sound, ironically saving them both of the conversation. The crates let out a scratchy sound, jerking against the floor. No way one zombie can do that, to both their knowledge. Wade pulls Peter up on instinct and dashes off with him while Peter mindlessly slips the photo in the back pocket of his pants. Two bends down what seemed like an endless hallway and Ellie, MJ and Gwen appear in a distance, waiting for them. “Get the fuck out of here!! CLIMB!!” Wade screams and the two take the cue, scrambling to climb up the ladder and forcing the vault above them open. Peter’s thoughts should have been ‘Holy shit we’re going to die we have to move move MOVE!! GO!!’ but now he is thinking along the lines of ‘I’ve never seen Wade lead like that before.’ Right now, Peter does not seem to be processing the idea of ‘danger’. This feels familiar to Peter, horrifyingly familiar, like when Uncle Ben died.

 

Peter feels himself getting shoved up by Wade and his hands and legs automatically move, climbing the ladder as fast as Wade urged him underneath him. Wade shoves him out of the vault and onto soil. Peter falls to the side and suddenly, the adrenaline is gone, and his body sags, tired. Physically and emotionally. Wade, in the corner of Peter’s eye, desperately fights off a zombie latching onto his leg and with one final kick and a few shots, sends it down the hole and Gwen shoves the door shut, slamming onto a nameless set of boney fingers that have failed to leave the vault. That was good news. The bad news was that now that the zombies have been taken care of, he’s left to focus on the other problem he has yet to address. Wade takes his cue despite there being none and kneels by Peter’s side, sitting Peter up and holding Peter. That grounded him. “Peter, are you okay?” Peter knows he means more than just scabs.

 

Peter’s mouth only gapes. Nothing comes out. He does not know what to say. What should he say? Of course I’m not okay, I just learnt that my Aunt died. He could say that, but something much more emotional threatens to spill. He really does not want to break down, but he really wants to. So instead, he opts for a detail account of what happened. “I found it. Down there. In one of the rooms,” Peter starts slow. Ellie cocks a brow, “Found what?” Wade gives Ellie sort of like a glare, but not so much a condescending one because Ellie does not know how bad the situation is. Peter takes the photo out of his pocket and holds it up subconsciously. It takes MJ and Gwen one good look before their faces twist and the horror sets in, but Ellie is slow to pick up. “Peter’s Aunt and Uncle,” Wade offers with heaviness in the air of his voice, short and curt. Ellie looks at the photo. Then back at Peter. And her face twists as well. “I’m sorry,” Ellie finally says, softly. Peter does not really know what to do at this point. He is still at the part where he has registered the bloody handprint on the door he had seen. But he nods subtlety at the words.

A faint snarl sounds in the distance, unlike a wolf or any animal. They turn to see what it is and they see the faint figures of staggering souls appearing from the scattered peaks of white snow. “I think we’ve been found…” MJ notes as she swallows. Peter swallows as well and finally says something, “We should leave.” Like it was something obvious, and it was. They pick themselves up and soon make a break for it.

 

 

Something about these zombies seem much unique than any other zombie. While zombies chased after prey by themselves and always seem to be knocking each other over like mindless ducks chasing after bread crumbs, these ones were smarter to an extent. Somehow, they have lived long enough (They could tell. Their bodies were dripping with maggots and melted away flesh from years of being under the summer sun after the chilliest of winters) to learn that if they circled their prey and close it, they can trap their prey and strike at one go, increasing their chances of landing them a nice meal. This was probably some dirty trick God was playing on them. A good one too. For the zombies, not them. The only thing stopping the zombies from getting too close to them were the random trees scattered through the forest. But it still did not stop them from running any faster, yet somehow only brought them closer to the inevitable.

 

They soon faced a tall, steep hill. Too steep to run up and caked with a mix of melted and unmelted snow, making it slippery to climb. They really were doomed. Wade turned to meet the zombies and pulled out a knife. “What if I go stabby stabby at them?” Wade asks. “There’s too many! Stabbing won’t work with five against a fucking hundred!!” Ellie reasons, but nevertheless still has her bow and arrow prepared and aimed, not ready to die at 15. A few too eager zombies break from their formation and launch at them like hungry wolves, only ever getting an arrow or a knife through their heads. In the back of Peter’s head, he prays that they would die as little of a pain as possible. But on the other hand, he prays they live. Between what has occurred just now to their current situation, it’s a very delicate balance between the two options.

 

“Well, if this is the last time we ever live,” MJ says, “I would just like to say that I died with a bunch of amazing idiots and friends. Idiots and friends being both the same thing.” Easy to mistake her speech as a good kick of humor, but it was very much with fear. Gwen and Ellie lets out a strained breath. Wade only tightens to grip on Peter’s hand, and Peter does as well, biting his lips. But Peter is still in another land on his own, wondering if a heaven existed and if so, would he find them there.

 

Another shriek and a skeleton of a zombie flies towards them.

So does a disc like object as it cuts through it.

 

Peter blinks, unable to register something so unusually normal and simple cutting through something supernatural like. It flies back and something catches it above them. A tall figure, although back facing the light and casting a comic-esque shadow, distinguishable to them all, as the red, blue and white filter the figure. Maybe different with the additional SWAT like armor and a gun in their hand, which was jarring even for them to hold. There stands a hero they have not seen in a long while. Captain America.

 

“ No one’s dying, so don’t just stand there and help me!”


End file.
